Transparent
by julyblues
Summary: Santana Lopez is a workaholic who works for the police, her incredible gift for reading people's expressions and seeing if they are lying being of great use to them. When a certain blonde becomes her new assistant, her ability to concentrate on her job lessens, and Santana is having trouble telling if she likes it or not.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yes, I started a new story! This wouldn't leave me alone, so I just had to start it.**

**This is a Detective!Brittana story, which I've always wanted to write.**

**Don't worry, Geography Club is still on the go.**

**I may not post further chapters of this story unless I get positive feedback, as these chapters are going to be miles longer than the chapters in GC, and also harder to write, so fingers crossed!**

**This is based on the TV Show 'Lie to Me'. It's a show about a scientist who helps the police in their investigations as he's incredibly talented in reading facial expressions and seeing people's emotions, and when they're lying.**

**Hope you guys like it, let me know if you do.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or Lie to Me.**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

Sometimes, you feel like your whole life is driven by stress. Which is sort of true; you have stressful job, which has most to do with it. It also has to do with the fact you're just out of a six year long relationship, and you're incredibly bitter about it.

When people ask you to describe your job, you just get so uncomfortable. Not because you're ashamed of your job, but mostly because half of the people you meet think what you do is a load of crap.

Long story short, you work for the police. Your job is to talk to people accused of a crime, and read their facial expressions to see what they're feeling, and potentially if they're lying or not. You also have some incredibly long hours.

It may not sound very stressful, but it is. You learned that the hard way.

The good thing about it is, you possess your own company, and your office is a beautiful, modern building in Washington D.C.

Your alarm drags you out of your sleep. 5:30a.m. You groan, rubbing your eyes, and saunter towards the shower. You're not usually one to take cold showers, but you need it to wake yourself up.

You stand there under the freezing cold water drizzling on top of your head, watching as the droplets of water hit the glass, keeping your eye on them as they slide down the pane and finally hit the ground. You wonder if it's a metaphor for your own life, the water going so far down that it just disappears.

Your apartment is only a fifteen minute walk from work, so there's no worry about traffic. But, you're a workaholic. Sometimes you'll get to work for seven, and you'll leave at nine. Your co-worker, Quinn Fabray, often has to pull you kicking and screaming out of your desk chair.

It's April, so the weather is pretty okay. The sky is blue, with big, white, fluffy clouds taking up half the space. The walk to work is bearable today.

You storm through reception doors, flashing a brief smile at Rachel Berry, your receptionist, and towards the interrogation room, your cup of coffee in one hand, and your iPhone in the other. You really are not in the mood today for any of the meetings that are planned.

"Lopez," Fabray calls, speed walking up to you and shoving some files in your hands. "You know what you're interrogating this man for?"

You shake your head. "No, not really. I was sort of just hoping to figure that out in there, but I'm sure this huge bundle of paper is much better at explaining."

"Leroy Connors," Fabray starts, ignoring you. "He's charged with rape and murder of Sarah Banks, his fiancée. He keeps denying the accusations, but if my training is telling me correctly, everything he says is a lie."

You smile, feeling proud of Fabray. "Thanks, Quinn," you say. "I'll have this guy admitting to everything in under ten minutes."

Fabray shoots you a smile, already walking towards the reception doors. "I don't doubt it."

You follow her. "What are your plans for today?"

"Jones and I are checking out a case. Some kid was accused of murdering a classmate who was found dead outside of the school grounds."

"Is the kid innocent?"

Fabray nods. "Seems to be. Is your schedule busy for later?"

"I don't think so," you say. "After this interrogation, I don't think I have much. I might help you with this case you're on."

"Lopez, I can do it myself," Fabray whines. "The last time you got involved in one of my cases, you nearly got three police officers suspended."

"That's because I'm passionate about my job," you argue. "Plus, we caught the guy, didn't we?"

Fabray playfully waves you off. "Go into the interrogation room and do what you're best at."

The interrogation room wasn't a regular one. It consisted of a large, square glass container, where you kept all of the people to be questioned. Outside it, your colleagues, Evans and Zizes, assess the situation, looking at the interrogation through multiple cameras, zooming in on the person's face and trying to find any signs of lying that you may not catch.

It's rare occasion that you wouldn't notice an emotion on someone's face, but it has happened before, and you don't want to risk it.

"Do you want me to come in with you, Lopez?" Evans asks.

"I can handle this myself," you sigh. "Keep Puckerman on standby, just in case."

Puckerman's the police officer you kept around your office when you have an interrogation in process. He was only supposed to come once, but you grew fond of him and now he still works for you.

"Alright," you announce, taking a seat at the metal table, looking at the man in front of you. "Let's begin and end this before lunch. I didn't have time for breakfast this morning."

You read the piece of paper in front of you. "There's no need for me to go over what happened, I already read the file. What I want to know is why you, Mr Connors, raped and killed your fiancée."

You sit there, waiting for a response, but you don't get one.

"Was I too blunt?" you ask. "I can be even more blunt." You reach into the bag on the chair beside you and pull out a picture of the crime scene, the woman dead on the ground, blood surrounding her body. The picture is pretty sickening, but your face remains expressionless.

"I didn't do it," the man says, his eyes flicking down at the photo on the table in front of him. "I don't care what your stupid, fucking weird lying instincts are telling you. I didn't _do _it."

"That," you smirk, "is one huge lie. If you didn't do those things to that woman, your face would have shown sadness, or disgust when you saw the picture. But, what I got from you was pride, and elation." You rub your hands together, settling in your seat. "I'm just gonna explain what I do here to you, because obviously you have no respect for it. You may think your face is pretty expressionless right now, but all these little things called micro-expressions flicker across your face to show what you're really feeling. Now, these micro-expressions remain on your face for less than a second. But, I'm trained to catch them. Nothing can get past me."

Leroy stands up abruptly. Not only can you see anger in his face, but the bones and muscles in his neck pop out for a second, signalling pure fury. "I did not kill or rape Sarah. She was the love of my life."

There is a small silence, before you lean back in your chair, shrugging slightly. "Okay. I believe you."

You watch as a small smile appears on Leroy's face for a split second. It was a tiny flick of his lips to one side, but it was enough to grab your attention. "Now, _that's _interesting."

Leroy frowns. "What?"

"You see, when a person's lie is being believed, they show a brief micro-expression of happiness. Which is what you just showed. You're lying your little murdering ass off."

"I did not kill Sarah," Leroy yells, taking a step back. "I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you make accusations at me for something I didn't do."

You smirk. "You just stepped backwards, you see."

"Yeah, so?"

"That indicates that you have absolutely no confidence in what you just said," you tell him. "You also used the words 'did not' instead of 'didn't', which almost definitely signals a big fat whopper. You're giving your speech too much thought. If you didn't kill her, you'd be so overcome by emotion, it would just come out. The words 'do not' usually don't come naturally."

Leroy remains silent, scoffing slightly.

"Don't believe me?" you ask. "Do you remember Clinton's speech, '_I _did not_ have sexual relations with that woman_'? Ring any bells?"

Leroy bites his lower lip, telling you everything you already knew.

You stand up, facing him, looking him in the eye. "You may as well admit to it now, Mr Connors. Make our lives a whole lot easier. Well, mine, not yours. You'll be in jail, regardless."

"I loved her," Leroy yells, putting his hands behind is back.

You hesitate, before smiling. "You put your hands behind your back, Mr Connors. In body language speak, that means you have something to hide. Also, you did not break eye contact with me once. I know it's universally thought that eye contact means the truth, but that's just a myth. You're trying too hard to convince me that you're not lying."

Leroy crosses his arms over his chest, slowly sitting back down.

You point at his arms. "That shows that you're getting defensive." You sit back down, smirking at him and crossing your legs. "Call me a show off, but I'm just good at what I do. I can do this all day."

Leroy sits back in his chair, looking pretty upset.

You lean forward after a lengthy silence. "Did you know that the average person tells about, three lies per ten minute's conversation? We've been here two minutes and you've told about thirty."

Leroy remains silent.

"Was the reason for your committing murder do to with the fact that your wife was having an affair?" you ask calmly.

The man's eyes widen for around a tenth of a second. Real, true surprise.

"Interesting," you comment. "That was genuine shock, right there. You had no clue about the affair." You rest your elbows on the cold steel in front of you. "You know, at this point I don't even care why you killed her. Where's the body buried? We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way being you just telling me so we can avoid more time in this room with each other, or the hard way being me dragging it out of you, without you even having to say a word. Because I know you did it, Mr Connors. I'm not going back on that."

Leroy didn't move a muscle.

"Okay," you smile. "The hard way it is." You settle back in your seat, sipping your coffee. You briefly look at his details on the sheet of paper in front of you. "The lake a mile from your home?"

The man just stares at you.

"Nah, too easy," you shrug. "Your backyard?"

Nothing.

You look him right in the eye. "It says here in your home description that you got an extension on your house in the past two years. So, how about under the ground in your basement." It was more of a statement.

Once again, there's nothing. Then, Leroy gulps.

"Got it," you shout, jumping up and opening the door, looking down at Evan's and Zizes. "Did you get that?"

Zizes nods frantically. "The FBI are already on their way, boss."

You nod, before turning around and smile widely and sarcastically at Leroy, who looks panicked and defeated. "Have fun in prison."

* * *

You're at your desk, going through paperwork of current cases when you get a message that comes through your desk phone. "Your 2 o'clock is here, Ms Lopez," Berry tells you.

You frown, scrolling through the calendar on your laptop. "I didn't have a 2 o'clock scheduled."

"Well, she's here. Some woman to be interviewed for the position of your assistant."

"Oh," you breathe, mentally groaning. "I forgot about that. Send her through."

You briefly look around your office, looking to see if it was in the right state to hold an interview. You have to admit, you have a beautiful office; a glass desk, with a computer and an abundance of notebooks on it. There's a whole wall covered in pictures of different people with different expressions, doodled on by you with a marker of where each expression was hidden. Plus, there is a giant big screen facing that wall to present findings to the police.

You hear a faint knock on your door, and you clear your throat, shifting a few pieces of paper around on your desk. "Come in."

A tall, blonde woman enters the room, smiling at you. She's wearing a tight, short pencil skirt, a white blouse and has a grey blazer the same colour as her skirt draped across one arm. She has blonde hair put up in a bun and light makeup on. Simply put, she's gorgeous.

Her heels clicking on the floor, she walks towards the desk, grinning widely. She holds her hand out to you.

You stand up and grip it firmly. "Good morning."

The woman sits down opposite you. "Nice to meet you, Ms Lopez. I'm Brittany Pierce."

"Nice to meet you too," you smile, taking a seat. You hold your hand out to her, asking silently for her resume, and she gives it to you.

You skim through it, making small noises of approval. "I see you've worked for the police before," you comment. You set the papers down on the desk. "But, I want to hear from you, why you think you'd be good for this job."

"I've worked in many offices before as assistants," Brittany tells you. "I have a lot of experience in that field."

"Why did those previous jobs not work out?" you ask.

"Two of them were in my dad's office when I was just starting out, no qualifications, just trying to make a bit of cash for the summer. The rest didn't work out because I moved around a lot. But I'm settled here now."

"Okay, good," you smile.

"I'm also incredibly intrigued as to what you do here," Brittany informs you.

You raise an eyebrow. "Explain."

"Well, I don't mean to sound blunt, but I'm not sure I'm sold on this whole thing, and I want to see what it's all about. I was hoping this interview could also turn into a sort of field trip."

You almost laugh. "Are you serious?"

Brittany shrugs. "I mean, I'm good with reading facial queues, but I don't understand how a whole company can be based on that."

"And you decide to start off an interview for a job here with that comment?" you challenge. "You know, you could have come here and seen what it was about without going for the job."

"Oh," Brittany gasps. "No. I want the job. Sorry, I have no filter. I want the job because this place intrigues me. I just want a little bit more proof that this whole lying thing is completely accurate and true."

"Right." You smirk, sensing a challenge. "You want me to show you how good I am at this?"

Brittany nods. "Please."

"My pleasure," you say, crossing your legs. This is going to be fun. "You find me attractive."

Brittany briefly looks surprised, before raising an eyebrow. "How can you tell?"

"Not only are your pupils fully dilated, which is pretty much a sign of arousal known by everyone, but your whole body is pointing in my direction. Also, every time you finish a sentence, you bite your lower lip. You couldn't be more obvious."

Brittany smiles. "Impressive."

You pick up Brittany's CV, handing it back to her. "Although I'm flattered, I want to remain professional with a potential colleague. But, judging by your resume, your experience and your genuine interest in this company, I think you should be expecting good news."

Brittany's face lights up. "Wow, thanks."

You stand up and walk her to the door. You shake her hand and smile warmly. "It was nice to meet you, Ms Pierce. I'll be in touch."

You drag yourself towards your desk and collapse in your chair. Your day barely began and you already feel exhausted.

You're almost about to dose off when a light knock on your door pulls you back into reality. "What?"

"We need your help here, Lopez," Fabray informs you, walking down to you. "I know you have a lot on your mind right now with the new assistant and the Leroy Connors case-"

You wave her off. "There is no Leroy Connors case. Sorted that in less than five minutes. FBI are finding his wife's body as we speak."

Fabray smiles, not looking in the least bit surprised. "Wow. Good job. How's the possible new assistant?"

You shrug. "She seemed to have no belief in what we do. I literally had to prove it to her in order to get her to take my word for it."

"So I take it you're still on the hunt?"

"No," you say. "I think I might hire her."

Fabray raises an eyebrow, so you continue.

"She seemed genuinely interested in what we do, plus a person who questions everything, including authority, and going by their gut instinct is the type of person we need around here."

Fabray nods. "I agree."

You stand up and walk towards the door, beckoning for Quinn to follow you. "You had something to run by me?"

"Oh, yes. Evans is questioning someone new in the interrogation room and needs your help. He wants you to take over."

"What's the case?" you ask.

Fabray pulls a file out of her bag, handing it to you. "Drugs. This man on the file, Derek Moran, is a local drug dealer, and we're trying to find out who he works for so we can ultimately get to the drug lord."

"And you couldn't do it yourself?" you scoff. "I spent two years training you, Fabray. I hope to think you'd have the skills to sort out a simple case like this."

Fabray comes to a halt outside of the interrogation room. "This man won't talk, Lopez. I can't get anything out of him. Even Evans can't, and I think he's a little better at this than I am."

You shake your head disapprovingly. "You don't need him to speak. His face does all the talking for him. I'll be ten minutes tops in here. Can you get Puckerman to come in with me?"

"Sure, I'll call for him this second."

You enter the square, glass room, smiling widely at the young man in front of you. "Good morning, Mr Moran."

Derek just sits there, silent.

You take a seat in front of him, still smiling. "This is going to be fun, isn't it?"

The man stares at you, stony faced.

You love playing games with the people you're interrogating, so you pick up the file and open it, practically shoving it in Derek's face. "You see this file right here, Mr Moran? This file has a list of every known drug lord in the area known by the FBI. I was originally just going to find out who you work for, but why do that when I can simply find out who the drug lord is in less than five minutes?" You smirk, crossing your right leg over the left. "I'm going to list the drug lords, and I'm going to study your face and body language as I do so. Sounds simple?"

Derek doesn't respond once again.

Noah Puckerman walks in slowly, smiling slightly and nodding at you before standing by the door, his focus straight ahead of him.

You put your focus on the file in front of you. "Simon Hammond."

Nothing happens.

"Timothy Mullins."

No.

"Phil Nolan."

Still nothing.

"George Goodman."

Derek clenches his fist.

You look up at Puckerman. "George Goodman."

Puckerman is already out the door. "Got it, boss."

You smirk at Derek. "Thanks, sweetie." You pinch his cheek as you walk out.

"You need to get better at this, Fabray," you shout down to her, as she's deep in conversation with Rachel at reception. "Your skills are useless."

You strut down the corridor towards your office.

Sometimes, your job is pretty awesome.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow! The feedback for the** **first chapter was pretty amazing. Thank you guys for all of your kind comments.**

**Yes, I watched Lie to Me and it's so unbelievably awesome! I'd totally recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it yet. It's on Netflix.**

**I think I'll put most of my focus on this, but Geography Club will be finished.**

**Hope you guys like this one.**

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CHAPTER TWO

You're tossing and turning in your bed, feeling like your entire body is taken over by insomnia. You went to bed at 10 just to get an early night, but now it's 4a.m and you haven't slept at all.

You throw your legs to the side of the bed and sit up, shoving your feet into your Nike trainers. You sleep in shorts and a tank top anyway, so all you have to do is put on a light hoodie, grab your keys and phone and lock the door behind you.

There's a slight chill in the air as you jog through the almost empty streets. You slide your earphones in and put on your music low, listening as you run.

As a person who gets stressed very easily, you find that running clears your mind. Whenever you go jogging, all of your thoughts seem to disperse.

You were always like that, even as a kid. You remember nights when you were kept up by your parents screaming and yelling at each other. It bothered you so much, that you left the house in the middle of the night, on school nights sometimes, and just went jogging for miles and miles. If you concentrate on your breathing and your pace, all other thoughts are cleared from your head.

It worked for exams, too. You often got very stressed over tests in school. You remember what you were like around the time of your Senior Year finals. Looking back on it, you were pretty unbearable to be around. But you went jogging every night after you studied, and all of your worries disappeared for that short amount of time.

It's been twelve weeks since the last time you've taken part in a huge case, one that ended up with loads of press and attention from the newspapers. You mainly deal with smaller cases rather than the bigger ones; you find the latter too stressful. Though, the former aren't challenging enough, so work can be boring sometimes.

It's not long before you find your jogging come to a halt outside of your office building, and immediately you roll your eyes at yourself. Even in your spare time you can't seem to keep away from work.

The whole front of the building is made of glass so you can see that every light is off, apart from the one in reception, where Rachel is still sitting at her desk, staring at the computer screen. You can tell that she's barely able to keep her eyes open.

You stroll in through the main doors, waving at Rachel. "What're you still doing here?"

Rachel jumps slightly, before letting out a brief laugh and putting a hand over her heart. "You scared me," she chuckles. "I've been getting calls all through yesterday and tonight, requesting your services and assistance in some cases."

"Did you put Fabray and Jones on some of them?" you ask, resting your arms on the reception counter.

Rachel nods. "Yeah, but some of them were looking specifically for you. You're high in demand, Lopez."

You puff your cheeks out with air, before exhaling slowly. "How many?"

"You won't like the number," Rachel tells you, giving you a sympathetic look.

You rest your hands on your hips. "Go home," you say, pointing towards the door. "How often do you come in this early?"

Rachel scratches the back of her neck. "I actually haven't left since two evenings ago."

Your mouth drops open. "Seriously? I thought I was a workaholic but this takes it to a whole new level, Berry."

"I just like getting work done quickly. If I don't get it done, it'll annoy me until the next morning. I guess I'm kind of OCD about it."

You laugh. "Go home," you repeat. "I'll handle this. Is Puckerman still around? Sometimes, he sticks around for the nightshift."

Rachel nods. "So is Hudson." She's about to stand up, before hesitating. "Want to walk out with me?"

"Nah," you shrug. "I think I'm gonna stay here until morning. I can shower here and stuff. Wouldn't be the first time I've done this."

"You're going to wear _that _at work?" she asks, laughing, looking you up and down.

"It's my company, I can wear whatever the hell I want."

Rachel holds her hands up in mock defence. "Whoa, my bad." She grabs her bag and smiles and at you. "I'll see you in the morning, Lopez."

You shake your head slowly. "No, take the morning off, because you've been working so hard. You don't have to come in until 2."

"Wow," Rachel says, her eyes wide. "Thank you." She seems genuinely thankful. She must be utterly exhausted.

You smile. "No problem. Get some rest." She's about to leave, but you put your hand out and grab her arm, stopping her. "Did you call Brittany Pierce earlier and let her know she got the job?"

Rachel nods. "Yeah, she seemed pretty happy. When she walked in the door yesterday, her mouth dropped, she looked so impressed with the place."

"I can't blame her," you smirk, crossing your arms over your chest. "We're pretty awesome here."

"True."

"When did you tell her she was starting here?" you question.

Rachel pauses, looking hesitant for a second. Her collarbone pops out briefly, showing you she's anxious.

"What's up?" you ask.

Rachel sighs and laughs. "You have to stop reading me like that. You don't have to use your tricks on everyone."

"I can't help it," you tell her, "it's a force of habit. Now tell me what you did."

"Nothing," Rachel squeaks. "I just told her she could start today, if that's alright. I didn't know if that was okay with you."

You exhale. "Of course it is. It makes sense; the earlier she starts here the better, right?"

"Correct," she smiles. "I'll see you in the afternoon then, Lopez."

Once Rachel leaves, you immediately feel lonely and slightly scared. The building is pretty frightening in the dark, you feel vulnerable and an easy target. You know it's pretty irrational, as any criminal with a brain would realise there would be night guards in a big, open building like this at these hours, but you're still paranoid.

"Puckerman," you yell, hoping he's within earshot.

After a second, his head pokes out from behind a door. "Yeah, boss?"

You point at him, and then to the main doors. "Keep guard while I shower. Get Hudson to go with you, and Karofsky if he's around."

Puckerman gives you the thumbs up. "Sure thing, boss."

Once you shower, you brush your teeth, as you keep a spare toothbrush in your office. You often find yourself sleeping in the office if you work too late, so you usually just lock the door and sleep in your desk chair.

You feel a lot better and more refreshed after your shower. You walk out of the bathroom in your office, dressed in the jogging/sleeping clothes from earlier on, trying to dry your hair with a towel.

You sigh loudly and collapse in your desk chair. Thoughts of work, and the new assistant, and cases, and paperwork, and filing all pour into your head and suddenly you're overcome by stress. You always do this to yourself; once you have time to think and be alone, you only end up stressing yourself out.

Realising that you're only your own worst enemy, you lay your head down slowly on your desk, suddenly noticing how exhausted you are, only intending to rest there for a couple of minutes, but before you know it, you're asleep.

* * *

"Lopez," you hear, rousing you out of your sleep.

You blink wildly for a few seconds, before lifting your head slowly. You groan when the light from the large windows behind you reflects in the mirror opposite you, hitting your eyes painfully.

"Wake up, Santana," Fabray says. "It's nearly ten. Your new assistant is starting today. You don't want to give her a bad first impression of this company, do you?"

You shake your head slowly. "Has she arrived yet?"

"I'm here."

Your head snaps up at the new voice. Your tired eyes meet bright blue ones, which immediately wake you up. "Good morning," you croak, shooting out of your chair and onto your feet. "Have a seat." You look at Fabray as Pierce sits down. "I can handle it from here."

Fabray nods silently, before spinning around and walking out of your office.

You and Pierce sit there in silence, as it dawns on you that you probably look disgusting, in long, sports shorts and a tank top, wearing no makeup and your hair tangled, hanging from your head and falling messily over your shoulders.

You can't believe you look like this in front of a new employee. How embarrassing.

You clear your throat. "Well, first of all, congratulations on the new job," you start, smiling as much as you can after just waking up. "I hope you like working here."

Pierce nods enthusiastically, grinning widely. She looks a little nervous, though.

You cross your legs, breaking eye contact with her momentarily. "This is the agenda. Fabray and I will train you for the next two weeks. We'll use one of the computer programmes we have here to teach you how to recognise micro-expressions quickly and easily. From then on, it's up to you to improve yourself."

"I'm a little confused," Pierce says, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I got the job as your _assistant_? Doesn't that mean arranging your appointments, and sorting out your paperwork and files, and getting you coffee?"

You chuckle a little. "That's what it may mean in any other company, Pierce. But here, everyone plays an equal part. Every person who works here is trained to read facial expressions, including the FBI agents who help us."

"So, does this mean that I'll be helping you with cases, and potentially putting my own life in danger?"

"Possibly," you shrug. "I've been doing it for years. Yes, it's dangerous and scary at times, but I wouldn't swap my job for the world. I won't put you on any case that you're not comfortable doing."

Pierce nods, her attention focusing on the ground, suddenly looking very nervous.

"May I ask you a question?" you ask.

Pierce nods hesitantly.

"Say we were interrogating someone, okay? What would you use to tell if they were lying?"

Pierce looks like she's thinking for a second, before making proper eye contact with you for the first time that day. "My currently non-existent face reading skills," she smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.

You make a small mental note of the fact that she seems like a joker. You can work with that.

You stare at her, before your lips twitch up slowly in a smile. "You know, out of all the people I've ever interviewed for a job here, you're the first person who didn't immediately blurt out 'polygraph test'."

Pierce's eyes widen straight away. "Whoa, seriously?"

"Even Quinn Fabray," you nod. "The person highest up in this company, apart from me, did." You pause, wondering how far you can take this. "Do you know why you wouldn't use a polygraph? I, in particular, think they're useless, but I want to know your opinion."

She looks mildly panicked for a second, so you put on the friendliest face you can muster straight after being woken up rather rudely by Fabray. "This isn't a test," you assure her. "You already have the job. I just want to know your take on this."

"Oh," Pierce breathes, relief written all over her face. "Well, lie detector tests are inaccurate because nerves cause your pulse to pick up, so the increase in heart rate may have nothing to do with the question asked."

You're slightly stunned. "That's entirely correct. Anger, arousal, or practically any emotion really, can set off the beeps on that machine." You stand up, gesturing for her to follow you out the door. "I have a feeling you're going to do really well here." You see Pierce try to hide her embarrassment and happiness by your comment, but you're not going to mention how nothing will go unnoticed by you.

As you walk around your desk to exit your office, you find Pierce looking at the many pictures of people on your wall, amaze and wonder plastered on her face. "What's this?" she asks.

"These are pictures of people from cases I've been working on in the past," you explain. "Most of these are from when I was just starting out, actually." You inspect them closely. It's been a while since you've looked at these.

Pierce studies one of them in particular. "Why have you drawn on them in marker?"

"Oh," you say. "I draw lines and circles on the faces to signal where the expression is being showed, on what part of the face it is, and what expression it is."

"That's pretty cool," she smiles. "I'm going to have to improve wildly on this to be as good as you, I suppose?"

You roll your eyes playfully. "That's probably true."

You lead her into room opposite the control room, Evan's office, where Evans, Zizes and Jones are gathered around the micro-expression simulator, making slight adjustments. "These are my co-workers," you say. "Sam Evans, Lauren Zizes and Mercedes Jones."

Once pleasantries are out of the way, you point to the micro-expression simulator. "This machine here was programmed by Evans, here." You point to him. "A face will be on the screen. Then, a micro-expression will flash across that face for about a tenth of a second, possibly less. You are then given a choice of micro-expressions on the side of the screen, like anger, fear, sadness, or one of those. It's a great way to practise and become familiar with the different expressions." You spin around and catch Pierce looking downward at your legs, which are on display. She realises she's been caught, and blushes deeply, touching her collarbone and diverting her gaze.

You sigh silently. This isn't going to be easily.

You're strangely flattered, though. Mostly, when people hit on you, you often feel annoyed, which even escalates to anger if they won't leave you alone when you clearly don't want to be bugged.

But, you find Pierce's non subtle ways sort of adorable.

"Let's move on," you smile, bringing her into the control room in the interrogation room.

Pierce looks amazed. "What's that?" she asks, pointing to the large, square box in the room made out of glass.

"That's where we interrogate people," you explain, taking a seat beside one of the many screens in the room. "The glass box is important so Evans and Zizes and look in and make notes, how FBI can look in, in case an emergency happens, and also so cameras can be pointing from all angles, including from outside, so Evans and Zizes can see the person's face, and zoom up on it, play back the recordings, all that. It's extremely important."

"That's so cool," she smiles, peering over the controls to look at the various cameras and screens. Her eyes widened for less than a second while you were speaking, so you feel like you have to mention it.

"Why were you so surprised?" you smirk, twirling around in the chair using your legs.

"What?" Pierce asks, her eyebrows knitting together.

You cross your legs. "Well, when I explained about the cameras and screens, your eyes widened for around a twentieth of a second. That means surprise. What's shocking you?"

Pierce looks so uneasy, you almost feel guilty for mentioning it. "I guess because I took you as one of those stubborn people who feels like they don't need any help with anything," she starts weakly. "I figured you wouldn't accept the use of cameras, or the help of your co-workers. I thought you'd feel you could take care of it yourself."

You're slightly taken aback. You really weren't expecting that. "Um," you start, laughing nervously and scratching your elbow as a distraction. "Clearly you're not as good as reading people as I am yet, because that's totally wrong. Here, we take all the help we can get. I may be the best person in the company at reading micro-expressions, possibly the best in the nation, but that doesn't mean I couldn't miss something vastly important."

Pierce's eyes cast downward as you study her face.

You stand up to try and match her height, before you realise she's taller than you by a few inches and you're not wearing heels. "No need to feel ashamed," you comfort, placing a hand on her upper arm. You notice how it tenses up the second you touch her, and that her face scrunches up in pain.

You make a mental note that she's either not a toucher, or has something painful on her arm.

"Do you want to try out the micro-expression simulator?" you ask her. "It's a great way to pick up on the small details without even realising you're remembering them. Plus, it's kind of fun." You smirk at her.

Pierce smiles at you. "I'd love to."

You lead her back into Evan's office, which is now empty. You turn the machine on. A picture of a woman with a blank expression is on the top left hand corner of the screen, and the list of the different micro-expressions it could be is shown down the right side. "You press this button," you explain, pointing to the circular button beside her hand. "And then in three seconds, the face on the screen will show an extremely brief expression, and you have to think of which one it is, and once you've thought about it, click on which micro-expression you think. It's a touch screen." You lick your lips. "I'll press the go button for you, because since you're new, it'll be hard to multitask."

"Okay," Pierce says. "This sounds easy enough." She rolls up the sleeves on her blouse.

You take a mental note that she seems competitive.

"After a while," you shrug, sitting down, "you won't even have to think about what expression it is. You'll already know the answer."

You press the circular button, as Pierce watches the woman's face closely. An expression that is clearly surprise appears on the woman's face for a spit second, but Pierce quickly clicks on fear, and a sound erupts from the machine, letting her know she got it wrong. "What did I do?" she asks.

"That was surprise," you say.

"Could you explain to me as to why?" she asks.

You stand up. "Certainly. The motions of the eyebrows, and also the bones in the neck are essential for spotting fear in a person. All the woman in the picture did was widen her eyes for a tenth of a second. That's real, genuine surprise. If you're ever interrogating someone, and they widen their eyes for more than one second, you know they're faking their shock. They're lying."

"Fascinating," Pierce breathes. "So real surprise means the eyes only widen for less than a second?"

"Precisely," you say. "The rest of the face will have surprise written all over it, but the eyes should relax after a second if it's true shock."

Pierce smiles at you. "Interesting. Can I go again?"

"Sure," you say. "Ready?" When she nods, you press the go button.

The woman's face changes to happiness, and Pierce taps it on the screen.

"Well done," you smile. "That's correct. Why did you choose happiness?"

Pierce looks momentarily confused. "Because the woman looked happy, I guess."

"Do you know specific signs of happiness?"

Pierce shakes her head slowly. "I would say a smile, but I'm guessing it's more complicated than that?"

"Only a little bit," you laugh. "Yes, a smile is a huge way of showing that you're happy, but can you spot a fake smile?"

"Um, no."

You smile softly. "If a smile is genuine, there will be tiny crinkles beside the eyes. If it's a fake smile, someone trying to convince you they're happy about something, they'll smile with their mouth, but not their eyes."

"Whoa," Pierce smiles, looking you in the eyes. "I've been here about a half hour, and I've already learned so much today."

"Another couple of months in this company, and you'll almost be as good as Fabray, I reckon."

There's a quiet knock on the door. "Come in," you say.

Fabray opens the door, and smiles at both of you. "Lopez, there's a briefing in your office between you, Evans and Jones for a new case."

"I'll be right there." You nod at her and then look up at Pierce. "Want to join us?"

Pierce looks surprised. "Would that be okay?"

"Of course," you laugh. "I told you earlier, you may be my assistant, but you'll be taking part in cases I'm involved in, unless it's far too dangerous."

You beckon for Pierce to follow you to your office, and you take a seat at your desk opposite Evans and Jones. Fabray is standing at the end of the table, and Pierce stands by your side.

"What's the case?" you ask.

Fabray looks down at the paper in front of her. "Emma Daniels, 14, a school girl in the area, is missing. Been gone since the weekend. Her parents are distraught, teachers and classmates also."

"Okay," you say. "Do you have details of her address, and her school?"

"Right here," Fabray says, waving the paper in her hand.

You look at everyone in the room as you speak. You want Pierce to feel like she's part of it. "The first thing we're going to do is interview her parents, then her principal and teacher. We'll then talk to her class about it, and see which of the students are popping out at us."

"How are we going to do that?" Pierce asks. "Can't we just interview each student separately?"

You shrug. "No need to do that. All we have to do is look out for the kid that every student is looking at, or the kid everyone is avoiding to look at."

"It's also been stated that the parents have recently divorced and the father got full custody," Fabray states. "That's rather unusual that the dad would get full custody, especially with a daughter. That could be significant."

"Interesting," Jones says. "That may have _something _to do with it."

"When are we going to interview the parents of the kid?" Evans asks.

You stand up. "Right now. We'll go to the father's home first. You guys can do most of the talking. Ask as many questions as you can, as long as they're relevant. I just want to observe so I miss nothing."

Jones stands up. "I'll get my car running." Evans follows her out of the office.

"Will I join you guys?" Fabray asks.

"We're all part of this," you say, making sure to look at Pierce in the process. "I think we should go as a team."

Fabray smiles. "I'll wait for you in the car, Lopez."

Once you're alone, you smirk over at Pierce, who looks rather excited. "Your first case on your first day," you say. "You should be pretty pleased with yourself. I didn't let Fabray go near any of my cases until she was six months into her self-training." You move across your office.

Pierce has an eyebrow raised at you. "You're going to question somebody dressed like _that_?" She points at your attire, laughing.

You point to the closet right in front of you. "Clearly I keep spare work clothes in my office," you smirk. "I'm not an idiot." You make your way into the bathroom in your office to change.

Pierce briefly looks surprised, then embarrassed. "I don't think you're an idiot, Ms Lopez."

You pop your head out from the bathroom, smirking at her. "Call me Lopez," you tease, making her smile.

You hesitate. "Also, Pierce?"

She looks at you expectantly.

You smile widely. "You're a terrible liar." You disappear into the bathroom before you can see her reaction.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm glad you guys seem to be enjoying this!**

**Also, I was thinking of adding another couple into this, possibly Faberry. I want to have a side couple in this story to mix things up, and my other story has Kurtbastian so I was thinking of making Rachel and Quinn a couple in this story. Some people will like the idea, some may be opposed. Let me know what you think.**

**Thanks!**

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

"Lopez?"

"Just a second," you say, buttoning your work pants. You're wearing a rather tight blouse, pants and heeled boots. It's not much different to your usual attire, but you still feel good.

"Alright," you hear Pierce say, her pitch a little high, signalling her nerves. "I'll still be waiting out here, but I just got a text from Fabray telling you to, and I quote, '_hurry your ass up_'."

Mentally cursing Fabray, you run a hairbrush through your hair, quickly apply some lipstick, before swinging the bathroom door open.

You're not one to tease colleagues, usually, but you couldn't help yourself. "Do I look okay?" you ask her, subtly puffing your chest out a bit, trying not to smirk.

You nearly laugh; her pupils dilated the second you opened the door.

But, as you watch Pierce's eyes do a sweep of your body, you find your mouth drying under her stare. You don't know what it is, because usually you like teasing the hell out of people who find you hot, but there's something about the way Pierce is looking, or maybe the fact that it _is _Pierce that's looking, that makes you sort of uncomfortable and makes you feel like a teenage girl again. "Absolutely," she assures you, smiling weakly.

You make your way out the main doors after thanking Rachel who wished you good luck on the case, and over to Jones' recently purchased Jeep, getting into the passenger seat, and you immediately begin to run through everything.

"You have the camera, Evans, yes?" you ask.

Evans nods enthusiastically. "As always, boss."

"And Fabray," you start, craning your neck to look at her, sitting in the backseat in between Evans and Pierce. "I want you, Jones and Evans to interview the man. I'll observe and take mental notes of his expressions and reactions to the questions. You are going to take the lead on the interrogation, and be the bad cop if necessary. Jones and Evans will fit in some questions here and there." You then turn your attention to Pierce, who's shrunk in on herself, fiddling with the end of her skirt, but paying close attention to you. "Pierce, I want you to observe, like I will be doing. You're only in training, so I don't want you getting too involved in cases as sensitive as this just yet. Also, looking out for the micro-expressions we talked about earlier will help you in the long run and you'll learn from it."

Pierce smiles and nods, looking rather relieved at the news of not having to say much.

You look over at Jones, who's beside you, concentrating on the road. "Did you get all of that?"

She nods. "Sure did, Lopez."

Fabray leans forward, tapping you on the shoulder. "Also, the mayor thanks you for doing this on such short notice."

You click your belt into the slot. "He can always count on me," you wink.

* * *

Once you arrive at the huge, modern looking apartment complex where Emma's dad lives, you wait impatiently for the elevator to arrive to take you up to him, as he lives on the twenty seventh floor. You always get very nervous before getting stuck into a case. Once you're well into it and very busy trying to solve it, you're fine, but the beginning is always stressful.

When the elevator arrives, you politely allow Pierce to enter before you, and you try to ignore the way she licks her lips and blushes a light red as you and her walk into the lift, the others following.

It's silent for the first couple of floors, but you break it. "What number is it?"

"27E," Fabray replies, flicking through the file in her hands. She looks over at the other three. "Let me do most of the talking, okay?"

Jones, Evans and Pierce nod.

You shoot Pierce a sideways glance. "Are you nervous?"

Pierce, who has been staring at the ceiling, lost in her own little world, looks up at you and smiles timidly. "No."

You smirk. "Liar."

"I'm not, really," Pierce assures you.

You don't feel like now is the time to try and get her to talk about her feelings, because clearly there's something else bothering her, but as you're about to say something the elevator dings and you all step out.

"27E," Jones mutters, her head flicking from side to side as she looks at the numbers on all the doors. "Ah, it's this one." She points at the door that's three doors down on your left.

You straighten your back, becoming your work-self, leaving Santana Lopez behind for now and just becoming _Lopez_, before you knock. "Remember what you have to do guys," you say, as you hear footsteps nearing from inside the apartment.

You don't usually remind your other co-workers of their specific jobs in a case this often, as they're great at what they do and they know how to do it properly, but with Pierce there, you want to make sure she knows exactly what's going on.

You feel slightly horrible for not having faith in her, but you're a little afraid she'll mess it up. People usually have to work to gain your trust, and prove that they're worthy of it, and the same rules apply for Pierce.

A man in his mid-thirties answers the door. He's wearing an old t-shirt that's completely ruined with food stains, old blue, checked boxer shorts and white sports socks. It looks like he hasn't shaved in weeks, and there are purple bags under his eyes. He looks utterly exhausted and depressed. But, aside from that, he's actually very handsome.

"Hello, Mr Daniels?" Fabray greets, politely. She moves in front of you so she's standing right in front of him.

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice rough and hoarse.

She holds a hand out for him to shake. "My name is Quinn Fabray, and these are my co-workers, Santana Lopez, Sam Evans, Mercedes Jones, and Brittany Pierce. We're currently working with the FBI on your daughter's case and we'd like to ask you a few questions."

Mr Daniel's eyes bulge out of his head. Real surprise. It looks like he wasn't expecting you. "Of course," he says, moving out of the way so he can let you in. "I'll just put on my dressing gown, you can just go ahead into the living room. I'll be right in."

You make your way into the living room behind Fabray. The TV's on, there's fast food containers everywhere, and there's a sleeping bag thrown into the corner of the couch along with a rather badly, coffee stained pillow.

If Mr Daniel's wasn't incredibly depressed, you would be greatly surprised.

You and the other three ladies squeeze onto the small, two-person couch while Evan's sets up the camera and places a chair from the dining room in front of the couch.

Fabray takes out her notepad and clicks her pen repeatedly, banging the end of it on the front of the notebook to click it open and closed, her focus right in front of her. You briefly wonder why she's so stressed.

Mr Daniels shuffles back into the room, wearing his dressing gown and smiling weakly. He sits down timidly on the chair. "I'm sorry the place is such a mess," he apologises. "I had no idea you'd be coming."

"That's alright, Mr Daniels," Fabray replies, a friendly smile on her face.

"Call me Adam," he insists.

Fabray smiles again, licking her lips and breaking eye contact with him to look at her notepad.

You raise an eyebrow to yourself; you know that look. You're about to make a snarky remark to her about flirting with the people she's interviewing, before realising your concentration is almost out the window. You straighten in your seat and continue looking at Adam.

"You don't mind that we record this, do you?" Evans asks, taking a seat on the arm rest of the couch. "We need all the help we can get, which means getting this on camera."

Adam tries to smile, but you can see that it's incredibly hard for him to show any positive emotion right now. You get the feeling straight away that he has nothing to do with his daughter's disappearance. "No, not at all. Carry on."

"I realise how hard this must be for you," Fabray starts. "But I need to ask if there's any person that you know of that would want to harm your daughter?"

Adam cringes a bit. "N-no," he stutters, though there's no sign of lying on his face, so you put the less than clear speech down to extreme emotions, as he gulped straight after the question was asked. "She's a great kid. Emma has loads of friends, she is funny and sweet. I can't think of anybody that would want to harm her."

Your heart clenches when you notice he's talking about her in the present tense. He really has hope that she's alive.

Fabray crosses her legs, changing position so she could face the man entirely. You almost scoff; you're going to have to have a strong word with her straight after this. "It says on the file that you and Emma's mother are separated since last June," she says softly. "It also states that you have full custody. Is there any reason for that?"

"Yes," Adam nods, looking even more exhausted than earlier, his eyes beginning to water. "My ex-wife, Tammy, Emma's mother, moved to Sacramento straight after the divorce. She wanted nothing to do with me after that, though she occasionally made an effort to see Emma. She was a bad mother to begin with, but once the divorce papers were signed she got the hell out of here with her twenty-something year old boyfriend and sold her house."

Fabray grabs the file out of her bag and flicks through it, looking very concentrated and confused. "If I'm not mistaken, it says that her current address is an apartment only downtown?"

"That's probably the place she lived before she moved to California. She moved out and got her own place when we decided to focus on the problems we had in our relationship. Sold the place and moved to Sacramento the day after our divorce was finalised. While she was living away from here, even just while she was in the place downtown, she never _once_ contacted me, she only talked to Emma occasionally." That this point, Adam is quite obviously crying, fiercely dragging the palm of his hand across his face to wipe the tears.

You take a mental note that he's not used to and is uncomfortable with showing deep emotion.

Jones leans forward in her seat, taking a deep breath. "So, you're saying there's no point in interviewing this woman?"

"She probably knows no more than I do," Adam shrugs. "Why would you interview her?"

"If a child goes missing in a family where the parents are split up," Fabray explains. "It would surprise you how often the child is kidnapped by the parents she sees the least."

"It's out of love, usually," Evans continues. "But seeing as your ex-wife seems to have little interest in seeing her kid, we have no reason to suspect her at all."

Adam sighs, looking at the floor. "That makes sense."

"Could there be a chance that Emma simply ran away because of the stress of the divorce?" Jones asks. "Maybe she went to find her mom?"

"Definitely not," Adam denies, shaking his head slightly. "Emma was the one who actually encouraged me to get a divorce. She saw how unhappy I was with her mother. Emma was completely on my side, and her and I were closer than she was to her mom. That's why I got full custody. Well, that, and she didn't want to move to Sacramento and leave me and all of her friends behind."

Fabray nods at him, before scribbling something down on her notepad.

Adam continued. "Plus, if she ran away and made her way to Tammy, she'd just send her right back. Tammy tells me she's heard nothing from her since the disappearance."

"How's she taking it?" Evans questions.

"Hard," Adam breaths. "Like I am. Tammy's a tough woman to live with and her and Emma didn't always get along." He takes a deep breath, it slightly ragged due to the former crying and emotion. "But, she is still Emma's mother. She loves her just as much as I do." He hesitates, before looking back at Fabray. "Why haven't they spoken yet?" He points at you and Pierce, just sitting there on the couch, looking at him.

"Pierce is new," Jones tells him. "She's here as part of training. But Lopez here runs and started our company. She's probably the best in the nation at reading facial expressions. She's not going to waste her great talents by questioning people. She likes to observe in big cases like this."

You smile, leaning forward and holding out a hand to Adam, who immediately takes it politely. "Nice to meet you," you greet, almost feeling like it's been an hour since you've last spoken. You firmly shake his hand. "I'm very sorry about your daughter," you continue. "After listening to you speak, it's very clear to me that you have nothing to do with this."

Adam nods, and you can see the tell-tale signs on his face of him getting emotional again. "I'd never hurt her."

After Pierce shakes his hand, you stand up and look at everyone in the room. "I think we're done here," you state. "Thank you very much for your time, Mr Daniels."

You watch, scowling slightly to yourself as Fabray smiles at him, fluttering her eyelids. You're really going to give it to her when you leave the apartment. You were feeling like verbally attacking her through the whole thing, and now you feel like you're going to explode with rage.

Once you leave Adam's home, and you're all in the elevator, the silence consuming it, you turn towards Fabray and point at her angrily. "You," you snap. "Can you be professional just for once and not flirt shamelessly with the people we're interviewing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Fabray says, rolling her eyes.

"Don't fucking lie to me," you growl. "This isn't the first time you've been utterly unprofessional and flirted with an interviewee. Can't you think with the top of your body instead of the bottom for once and just do your _fucking _job?" You're yelling loudly by now, but you really don't care.

The elevator dings to let you know you've reached the ground floor, and you storm out, passing your other co-workers on the way out, who look incredibly uncomfortable and awkward.

Fabray all but chases after you, making a loud noise of annoyance, and turns to face you, fury written all over her face. "Just stop, Santana. Just because you're alone and bitter about your breakup, which happened about four months ago, by the way, doesn't mean you have to ruin every little chance I get."

You stop in your tracks, your eyes widen and you just stare at her, completely dumbfounded. Not only did she call you by your first name, which she only ever does when things are getting personal and when you're in a fight, but she also referred to your most recent relationship, that nobody ever dares to mention around you. You're almost like a ticking time bomb when it comes to your past girlfriend. You still can't say or hear her name without shivering.

Fabray sees what she did wrong and immediately tries to cover it up. "I mean, what I meant to say-"

"Save it," you sigh, grinding your teeth together. "I'm too tired to fight. Just, never let it happen again."

Evans, Jones and Pierce catch up with you, and you all just get into the car slowly. Fabray gets in the driver's seat, and Jones doesn't even bother arguing, since Fabray is in a right mood.

You rest your head against the window, feeling entirely drained of energy. Fights with Fabray always tire you out.

You and Fabray have always had a very love-hate relationship, since day one. Half the time you're laughing and chatting like old friends do, and the other half you're chewing each other out. You really do love her, she's a great friend and she's unbelievably loyal, but sometimes she just really pisses you off.

Once the silence gets too much for you, you decide to finally say something. "Where are we off to now?"

Fabray clears her throat, keeping her eyes on the road. "Emma's school. We need to see if any of her classmates had anything to do with this."

You sigh and lean back in your seat. It's going to be a long day.

* * *

Once you arrive at the school, which was extremely posh and modern looking, you all meet with the principal, Ms Davis, who shakes your hands and walks you to the classroom where Emma's class is.

Your old high school was an absolute dump. You grew up in small town in Ohio, where barely anything happened. The only good schools cost about twenty thousand dollars a semester just to attend classes. Although you were extremely popular in high school, had excellent grades and an abundance of boys who were fawning over you, as you weren't out at that point, you always felt extremely jealous when you were watching the kids from the only, good private school in the town, Dalton Academy, walk past you on the street in their uniforms. It was an all boy's school, but you still envied them.

"Can I ask you if you're aware of any bullying going on?" you ask the principal, walking along beside her on the corridor. "Was Emma ever targeted at some point?"

Ms Davis shakes her head. "We have a very strict no bullying policy in this school. Bullying leads to immediate expulsion."

"So I'm guessing everyone is pretty upset about Emma," Pierce presumes.

"Not just upset," Ms Davis corrects, smiling politely. "Distraught. But, we're not giving up hope. We pray for her and her safety and well-being every day." She stops outside of the classroom, opening the door. "This is it. I'll walk you in."

You follow her inside, and you watch as thirty heads snap to you, their eyes watching you carefully.

"This is Ms Lopez," the principal states, gesturing towards you. "She will be talking to you today about Emma's disappearance." A few gasps can be heard from around the classroom, as the students try to look anywhere but you. "These are her co-workers, Ms Jones, Ms Pierce, Ms Fabray and Mr Evans, who will be helping her."

You smile widely at the class. "Good morning," you say cheerily. "I'm just here to ask a few questions about Emma."

You could hear a pin drop, the room was so quiet.

"Now I'm not going to question all of you," you say, walking slowly around the tables, the students all trying to avoid your gaze. "That would be a complete waste of time."

You watch all of their eyes, either looking incredulously at their friend beside them or refusing to look elsewhere but their table.

"But," you continue, walking up behind one student, staring at the back of his head. "I can make this so easy for myself, and I'll just take the one student that everyone's trying not to look at." You put your hand on his shoulder lightly, and he looks up at you quickly, his eyes full of terror. "Come with me, please."

The boy stands up sheepishly and you guide him out of the room. You can hear the low and urgent murmurs of the other kids and you lead him down the hallway, and into an empty classroom.

You, Jones, Pierce and Fabray sit side by side, with the boy anxiously sitting down in a chair right in front of you. He flicks his blonde hair out of his eyes, which are full of nerves and fear.

"Okay," you start. "The reason I picked you, was because you stood out to me. Your expression through my whole little speech in there was very different to everyone else's. All the other kids, sure they looked uncomfortable, but who wouldn't? You, on the other hand, looked like you wanted to jump out of the two story window and run away." You cross your legs, looking him straight in the eye. "Also, the other kids seem to know you were scared, because they all refused to look in your direction. Why?"

The kids diverts his eyes, looking down at his sneakers.

"What's your name?" Fabray asks, smiling at him.

"Leo Johnston," he replies, almost shaking in his seat.

Fabray leans forward, still grinning. "Well, Leo, we're just going to ask you a few simple questions and then you can head back to class, okay?"

Leo nods weakly, his eyes still focused on the floor.

Fabray was always better with kids than you, which was something you admire about her. You never really knew how to handle them, so she was nice to them and spoke to them kindly, and she usually got what she needed out of them. Fabray could still be scary when she needed to be, though, and it's one of the reasons you hired her in the first place.

You root around in your bag, taking out the 'missing' flier for Emma. In it, she's smiling widely, with an ice cream cone in her hand. In the background, there's a Ferris wheel. "Can you tell me your relationship with this girl?" you ask, handing him the flier.

You're just expecting sadness to show in his face and body language, but what you saw was different. His pupils tripled in size, he licked his lips and his cheeks reddened almost immediately.

"_Oh_," you start, trying to hide a smirk. "I see what's going on." You look at Fabray, who smiles at you. She caught it too. "You have a little crush on Emma, and everyone knows it."

Leo smiles weakly. "I guess."

You smile back at him. "So I guess this is why everyone wasn't looking at you? You have no more to do with this?"

"No, I don't," he replies, gaining his confidence and actually looking you in the eye, but a split second later one of his shoulders goes up slightly, only to come back down.

Fabray's eyes widen, and she leans over to you and whispers in your ear. "One sided shoulder shrug," she mutters.

Pierce hears her, and leans in to you. "What does that mean?"

"He had no confidence in what he just said," you mumble, trying to make sure Leo doesn't hear you. You turn towards him and quirk an eyebrow. "You don't sound so sure, Leo."

"I am," he says, a little too quickly.

You pause for a moment, before shaking your head slowly and laughing a little bit. "See, why don't I believe you?"

"Oh my god," he yells, startling you for a moment. "I didn't do anything to Emma." He then slams his hand down on the table in front of him, and now you know.

"That's very interesting," you comment. "You know, real anger can't be held back. If you were really furious at us accusing you, you would have hit the table while you were speaking, or even beforehand. But the fact you did it a beat after you finished talking means it was practised and thought about. You're not really angry, but you want us to believe you are. You're just scared."

Leo's face drops, but he doesn't say anything.

"Where is she?" Jones quizzes, her voice a little louder than yours.

"I-I don't know," he says, but his face tells you that he's lying.

"Do you have any clues as to where she may be?" you ask.

Leo shakes his head quickly, but then he gulps, letting you know he's lying.

You decide to continue, not believing him. "Maybe, in your house?"

Leo diverts his eyes and you immediately stand up, and smile at him. "You're coming with us." You grip his hand as you walk towards reception, the others keeping up with your long strides, walking beside you.

You try to ignore it as you sense Pierce's eyes boring into the side of you face, licking her lips as she stares. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Fabray watch her with a raised eyebrow.

Now you're not the only one aware of Pierce's attraction towards you. Great. It was only a matter of time.

You look forward to the interrogation you'll get from Fabray later as you haul the boy to the counter at reception.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asks, not even looking up from her computer.

You clear your throat. "I'm going to need the address of Leo Johnston. 9th Grade."

The woman finally looks up at you with a bored expression on her face. Clearly she isn't as passionate about her job as you are. "I can't just hand out the addresses of the kids," she says sourly.

You dig your hand into the pocket inside your blazer and show her your police badge. "How about now?" you ask sarcastically, smirking when her eyes widen and she starts typing and clicking on the mouse straight away.

She prints off the address for you and you take it, giving her a fake smile, and walk out the main doors, your hand still wrapped around Leo's wrist.

* * *

When you arrive at the house, you stride up the driveway, Fabray leading Leo out of the car so he doesn't run away.

You ring the doorbell and wait patiently, until a woman answers, a baby in one of her arms. "May I help you?"

"Yes, ma'am," you say. "I'm Santana Lopez, I'm currently working with the police on a case that is investigating the disappearance of a girl in your son's grade at school."

The woman nods, waiting for you to continue, so you do.

"We have every right to believe your son has something to do with the disappearance and we'd like if we could search your home, please."

Leo's mom looks shocked, as her eyes flicker between you and her son, but she silently moves to the side and lets you in.

Once you're all in the hallway, you turn and look at Leo. "This is what's going to happen," you say sweetly. "We're going to play a nice game of hot and cold, okay?".

Leo doesn't move, fear written all over his face and body. He opens his mouth, but you stop him.

"Oh no, it's okay," you start, walking towards the bottom of the stairs. "You don't have to physically speak. Your face is doing all the talking for you." You smile at him again. "Let's get this started." You point towards the ground. "Basement?"

You get no reaction, so you shake your head, chuckling quietly to yourself. "Nah. Too out in the open for your family to see. How about your bedroom?"

Leo quickly looks away, so you immediately start up the stairs, the others following you.

You burst into the room, and turn around to see an extremely anxious looking Leo lead the others in.

You walk towards his bed. "Am I hot or cold?"

There's nothing else but the fear on Leo's face.

"Cold then," you mutter to yourself. You inch yourself a little to the right. "Warmer?"

Leo looks a little more scared, so you figure you're doing something right.

You start to walk confidently towards the closet doors, on the opposite side of the room to the bed. You point at them. "How about the closet?"

All of a sudden, Leo gulps, and that's all the confirmation you need.

"Bingo," you shout, grabbing the handles on the closet doors and swinging them open.

You're completely unprepared for what you're about to see.

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you guys for your consistent support! You're awesome.**

**Just a small message.**

**I know some people have been telling me that they'd like to see Santana having more of an attraction towards Brittany; trust me, it ****will**** happen soon. But, this story is pretty slow moving, but I won't tease you guys too much.**

**But, if you read the last chapter carefully, and read through their interaction at the beginning of it, you will notice that the attraction from Santana's side has actually already begun. So don't worry.**

**I can assure you, when the attraction is returned fully, it will have been worth the wait.**

**Thanks for reading.**

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

In all honesty, when you opened the closet doors with a smug, yet concentrated grin on your face, you were only expecting to see some sort of clue that would eventually lead you to Emma's whereabouts, _if_ she's alive.

But, you seriously weren't expecting to see the young girl sitting there, worn out and tired looking, slumped on the floor, a rope tied around her wrists and ankles, and a piece of rubber stuffed in her mouth. She immediately looks up, eyes shimmering with hope when she sees the light and her face looks pained, as she makes frantic muffled noises with her mouth, trying to scramble to her feet but failing.

"Shit," you gasp, dropping to one knee straight away and fumbling to un-do the knot in the ropes. You snap your head around. "Quick, get me a whole jug of water," you say to Evans urgently. You then turn your attention to Fabray. "Get this little creep down to the station." You motion towards Leo, who looks so caught you almost laugh. He's standing there, playing with his hands. He also looks like he's about to get sick.

When Evans and Fabray rush down the stairs with Leo, you manage to get the ropes untied, and the moment you do, Emma pulls the rubber out of her mouth and throws her body into your side, sobbing loudly and wrapping her arms around your shoulders. She starts shaking and buries her head in your neck. "I r-really thought I was g-gonna die in there," she cries, squeezing you tighter. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

You hold the young girl, feeling rather emotional yourself, and you stroke her hair slowly, letting her sit there, half across your lap. "It's okay," you whisper. "You'll be okay."

Leo's mother rushes in, and immediately lets out a cry, covering her mouth with her hand as tears rush to her eyes. She kneels down beside the two of you and tries to get Emma to look at her. "I'm so sorry," she sobs, though you're not sure if she's speaking to you or Emma. "I had no idea, I'm so sorry."

Evans enters with a pitcher full of water and a glass with some ice in it. He pours some and hands it to Emma, who takes it with shaky hands. "Here you go, sweetie."

Your heart breaks as you watch Emma drain the whole glass in about two seconds, gasping for breath straight afterwards, taking a break from her crying. Then she reaches for the jug and begins to down it in one go. The poor thing must have been so dehydrated.

She still continues to cry after she finishes the water, and you continue to hold her, shushing her softly as she sobs desperately into your neck.

This is definitely the most emotional you've felt about a case _ever_. Not many of them have much to do with kids, and now here you are, with a kid in your lap, sniffling and holding you tightly, after spending time in a confined space without food and drink for god knows how long.

Once police officers and FBI begin to arrive, Emma is escorted out with a blanket over her shoulders. When her father arrives as she's getting into the police car, he bursts into tears, clutching Emma to his chest and not letting go for dear life.

It truly is a heart-warming sight for you to see. Adam finally gets his daughter back. Emma is finally back to safety.

Not only do you feel accomplished, but you can't describe your relief that there was a happy ending for Emma and her family.

Pierce is pretty badly shaken up about the whole thing, so you just let her go home early. You can't help but feel awful that her first case was such a heavy one, but you honestly had no idea it was going to turn out like that.

Jones offers you and Fabray a lift home, as Evans made his own way back to his house. Silence consumes the car as you sit in the passenger seat, your eyes half open and a billion thoughts buzzing around in your head like bees.

"Well done today, boss," Jones smiles, giving you a gentle pat on the arm. "It couldn't have ended better."

You nod, smiling weakly. "I agree. I just feel bad for Pierce; she seemed so disturbed after we found Emma in the closet."

"Pierce could have seen her in a worse state in the closet," she says, waving you off. "She'll be fine."

"I just have to go down to the station later and question that little psycho and find out why he did this."

Jones shakes her head violently, not taking her eyes off of the road in front of her. "Nuh uh, Santana. You're relaxing for the rest of the day. You did good, girl. Reward yourself and just do it tomorrow."

You hesitate, before caving. "Fine. But if I have a mental break down due to lack of work later in the evening, this is all on you, Mercedes."

"Okay, I'll take it," she laughs.

Once you're out of work environment, it's more common for you to call each other by your first names. But, you still insist on calling Fabray her last name just to piss her off.

Fabray leans forward, getting your attention. "Want to come over to mine later, girls? We'll order Thai food and try clear our minds of work." She glances at you and smirks, grabbing your shoulder. "Although, it might be a little hard for this one to do that."

"Shut up," you laugh, though that case is still on your mind. "I'll be there."

"I can't," Jones says, smiling sadly. "The Cedes has a date."

Your eyes snap towards her. "What?" you squeal.

"With who?" Fabray shouts, grinning like a mad woman.

Jones is the clubbing type of girl. You know that because she always invites you and Fabray out to the clubs with her and her out of work friends, so you reckon she met this guy at one of the clubs she goes to. She's not one for one night stands, so she hasn't gotten some action in ages. The possibility of her having a boyfriend makes you happy for her.

Jones looks out the window, smiling a bit. "Some guy I met in a club about a month ago."

"A month?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow. "Taking it steady and not dating until you know the guy properly? Didn't know you were so boring, Cedes."

Jones giggles. "No, this is my fourth date with him."

"What?" Fabray laughs, throwing her head back. "Why didn't you tell us about him?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I guess I didn't want to jinx it."

You smile lazily at her. "Good for you, Mercedes. What's his name?"

"Jack. He's gorgeous and really sweet."

"I want to meet him," you declare. "He has to get the Lopez and Fabray approval for his rite of passage."

Jones bursts out laughing. "Which is?"

"Letting him hold your hand. I trust you haven't gone further than that with him. You know it's not right to kiss before marriage."

Fabray nudges you, smirking. "That's correct."

"You two are insufferable," Jones chuckles, shaking her head. "Why did I allow myself to become friends with you?"

You shrug, crossing your legs. "You have good taste in companions. Don't even try and deny it."

"I won't," she says with a raised eyebrow. She pulls into your apartment block and parks beside the main doors.

"I'll see you later, Santana," Fabray shouts, just as you're stepping out of the car. "Seven thirty at mine later, okay?"

You nod and wave at them as they drive off. You watch the car until it's out of view, and once it is you let your shoulders slump and you let out a long sigh. You've never been so exhausted after a few hours of work before; it is only early afternoon.

You stagger up the stairs to your apartment, as the elevator is broken for like the fifth time this month, and you stumble through your front door, drag yourself to your bedroom and collapse on your bed.

Being a genius is hard work.

* * *

When you finally wake up it's almost seven and you let out a loud groan, before hauling yourself up and shuffling to the en-suite bathroom, taking a long look at yourself in the mirror above the marble sink.

In a word, you look _exhausted_.

There's purple bags under your eyes, which you can barely open at this point. There are wrinkles by them too, which signal even further lack of sleep.

You're not so good at seeing if people are tired, because tiredness isn't an emotion. But, you're sure great at being able to tell if _you _are.

You manage to brush your teeth and hair without too much trouble, and dress yourself in an oversized men's sweater you got at a baseball game, and sweatpants, before locking the door behind you, jogging down the flights of stairs, exiting your building and flinging your arm out to the side of the road for a taxi.

You sit in the backseat, watching cars whiz past you. You look out of the corner of your eye and see the driver perv on you, looking at you from the mirror. You scowl and he quickly diverts his eyes. There's nothing to perv on; you're not exactly dressed in your best attire and you're wearing your glasses, for Christ's sake. Which are indeed far too big for your face.

You shouldn't have let that teenage hipster advise you on what ones to choose at the opticians.

When finally arrive at Fabray's apartment, she greets you by opening the door and holding a bottle of red wine in one hand and a bottle of white in the other.

"Tonight's a red sort of night," you say, answering the unasked question and walking past her through the door, into her living room and sprawling yourself out on the couch.

Fabray chuckles and follows close behind you, shaking her head and placing the white wine on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "Brittany is joining us tonight, by the way," she tells you casually.

You're a little startled. "Oh, okay. Cool."

There's a short silence, before Fabray breaks it. "I'm sorry. You know, about earlier."

"Don't worry about it," you smile. You had a feeling she was going to bring it up, so you were prepared for it.

She's not finished though. "It was extremely unprofessional of me, and I won't let it happen again. Plus, I shouldn't have turned it on you and got mad. That was totally uncalled for."

"As I said, it's all water under the bridge now."

There's another silence, before Fabray speaks again. "What was with the surprise?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" you question, utterly confused.

"When I told you Brittany was coming over tonight. You showed a micro-expression of surprise, and also fear."

You let out a breathy laugh, throwing your hands up in the air. "You know, sometimes I wish you were bad at your job."

Fabray hands you a glass of your favourite red wine and plonks herself down the couch beside you. She curls her legs underneath herself so she's sitting on them. "Talk to me."

"I don't know," you shrug, trying to act nonchalant as you take a sip of your wine. "I guess I'm just surprised you're inviting her over because you're not so great with new people."

It's probably the most dangerous lie you've ever told; not only is Quinn Fabray _brilliant _with people, but she's also trained to spot lies almost as well as you are.

After giving you a look that says _I know you're lying but I'm going to drop it_, Fabray smiles softly and pours herself a glass. "I think it would be nice for her to get to know us and become part of the little girlfriend group we have in work; you, me, Jones, Zizes, Rachel and now her. She'd be a great new addition."

"You don't know that," you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. "You don't even know her."

"Neither do you." Fabray takes a sip of her wine. "Give her a chance."

You shrug your shoulders. "What do you mean? I _am _giving her a chance. Just because I don't invite her for sleepovers every night and braid her hair for her while I'm interrogating people doesn't mean I've crossed her off as a potential friend."

"Okay good." Fabray swirls her wine around a little in the glass, studying it as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. "I've talked to her for a bit. She's really sweet. I think you'll like her."

You feel like what she's saying has a double meaning and the pitch of her voice when she said it and the expression on her face is confirming it.

You put your glass of wine down and cross your arms over your chest. "What exactly are you implying here, Fabray?"

Fabray smirks. "Defensive, Santana."

You glare at her and she laughs, continuing what she was saying. "I think our new employee has a tiny little crush on her boss," she teases.

You decide to play it dumb and try and deny it, in hope that the conversation will change. "There's no chance of that being true. Absolutely _not_."

"Are you serious?" Fabray asks incredulously. "How can you, Santana Lopez, genius in the field of micro-expressions, not be able to tell when a girl, who doesn't seem to understand the concept of subtly, by the way, has the hots for you?"

You shrug, not giving in. "I wasn't looking out for it."

"I can spot lies too, ya know," she teases. "I know you know that I'm not exactly wrong. Just give it up, and let's gossip about it."

You shake your head insistently. "No. No, no way in hell. Fabray, you don't even know if this woman is attracted to girls. Just leave it. Stop making assumptions about people just because you _might _be talented in reading their faces."

"She clearly is into girls," she replies shortly, shrugging slightly. "I saw her checking you out earlier on today, and I saw it yesterday, too. That girl is _not_ one for subtly. I wasn't going to mention it yet but since she came up in our conversation, I did."

"Since _you _brought it up in our conversation," you snap, glaring at her playfully.

Fabray chuckles lightly, shaking her head and sipping her drink. "Give it up, Santana. I need to talk about this with you and I can't if you're being difficult."

"I'm _not _being difficult," you say stubbornly, but Fabray gives you another look, and you just decide to give in. "Okay, fine. Yes, I did notice it. But I honestly was too busy to even give it much thought."

"I think this calls for the second bottle of wine to be opened," Fabray squeals.

You have no problem with that. "I'll need it for this conversation."

Fabray settles back down on the couch. "Okay. Tell me everything."

So you do. You tell her about the amount of times that you've caught her staring not so innocently at you. You also may mention that you may have actually called Pierce out on her attraction towards you.

Fabray nearly chokes on her wine. "You did _what_?"

"It was during her interview," you shrug.

"That's even worse," Fabray giggles, knocking back some more of her wine.

You laugh along with her. "Shut up. She was doubting my skills and wanted me to prove them, so I did. I pointed out that she was attracted to me and explained how I knew. Case closed." You bring your hands together to let Fabray know you mean it, and that you don't want to discuss this further.

"Well, I'm definitely asking her about it tonight. Maybe I could make this actually happen."

"Quinn," you gasp, shaking your head wildly. "She's my employee. Do you realise how inappropriate it would be for people in the work place to even be _talking _about me and a colleague going at it, let alone _actually _doing it?"

Fabray laughs. "Relax, Santana. I won't try and set you up with her. I'll just simply ask her, when she's relatively intoxicated, if she would tap you."

"Not while I'm here you won't," you growl.

"No, I'll only bring it up when you leave to go to the bathroom or something."

You realise that even if you say no again, she'll still disobey you and do it, so you just grunt. "Fine. But ask her _nothing _else about me, clear?"

"Sure, boss," Fabray winks.

The doorbell rings, causing Fabray to jump up with an evil smirk, and causing your stomach to tangle itself up in knots.

"_Don't _do anything that could embarrass the poor girl," you warn her as she skips towards the front door.

Fabray laughs, her hand resting on the handle. "I should be saying the same thing to you." She flings the door open and there stands Pierce, in pyjama bottoms, a pair of Uggs, an NYU hoodie and a bottle of wine in her hands.

"Hi," she smiles, hugging Fabray quickly. "I just brought some wine. I don't know if you guys drink white, but if you don't you can keep it for when you have guests over anyway."

You hear Fabray laugh sweetly and you scoff. She really tries too hard with new people. "I'm sure Santana will enjoy the white," she replies, walking back into the living room with Pierce following her. "And by enjoy, I mean have it downed in twenty minutes."

"Fuck you, Fabray," you snap. You turn to your new employee, forcing a smile. "Hey, Brittany."

Pierce beams at you. "Hi, Lopez." She bounds over to the couch you're sitting on and hugs you briefly, giving you a quick smell of her perfume, which you find oddly intoxicating.

Pierce sits on the sofa, bringing her legs up so she's cross-legged.

"We're not in work, you know," you chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "You can call me Santana. I did forbid Fabray from doing so, but she still insists on it." You turn to see Fabray frown at you, and you give her a smug look back in return.

Pierce's face turns a light shade of pink, as she refuses to look at you. "Right. Sorry."

You hear a weird, strangled sound coming from your right and you look over to see Fabray giving you an amused look, and you frantically wave her away, mouthing for her to stop and mind her own damned business.

Fabray ignores you and takes a seat in the armchair right in front of you. "Don't worry, Brittany. Santana's going to try and not use her expression reading skills tonight, isn't that right Santana?"

"That's right," you confirm, taking a gulp of your wine. You're really going to need it. "Although, as you know, it's harder than you'd think to switch them off."

"It must be so cool to be talented like that," Pierce adds in awe. "I haven't picked up on much since I started here."

You turn to look at her. "You have probably learned more than you think you have. Give it time, Brittany. I'm sure after a while you'll be even better than Fabray, and I'm not joking."

Pierce gives you a genuine smile as Fabray rolls her eyes. "I'm gonna order the food," she mutters, getting up out of her chair and searching for the house phone. "You like Thai, right Brittany?" she yells from the kitchen.

"I love it," she replies. "Thanks, Quinn."

There's an odd silence, before you speak. "How did you find your first day today? It must have been rough for you."

Pierce's face pales a little bit, but she forces a small smile. "Yeah. I mean, I thought everything that you guys did today was so badass and cool and professional, but seeing that poor girl cry like that in the closet really got to me."

"That's understandable," you cringe. You hold up the already opened bottle of red and jiggle it a bit around in your hand. "Wine?"

"Please," she nods, licking her lips and grabbing an empty wine glass from the coffee table.

"You have to get used to it, I guess," you continue, pouring the drink slowly into her glass. "When I was working on my first case like that, I was even worse than you. The woman who went missing was fine, there were no problems there. Although, I _may _have thrown up right on the scene." You place the bottle back on the table, and pick up your own glass.

Pierce covers her mouth, a short yet loud laugh escaping her lips. "You're not serious."

"Completely serious. I felt so ashamed. I may have cracked a giant case, and I was pretty damned pleased with myself, but I'll never think back to that and not cringe on the inside."

"Yeah, well I didn't throw up," Pierce smirks. "It may have shaken me a little bit, but I'm all good now."

As you raise the glass to your mouth, you give her a sad smile, feeling rather guilty about it. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's fine," she says, waving you off and grinning widely, taking a gulp of her wine as well. "At least I know now that I'm braver than you were when you first started off." She giggles and nudges you in a very flirty way.

You gulp and force a smile. This woman is confusing the hell out of you. She switches back and forth from being shy and nervous, to being forward and flirty as hell with you.

You're usually able to get a good idea of someone's personality from one short conversation with them. You are so good at reading people, that they almost become transparent to you.

But not Pierce.

It's scaring you, if you're honest.

Fabray storms back into the room. "We have to wait an hour before our food is here," she huffs, plonking herself down on her chair. "A whole hour. I was better off ordering from that take out two blocks away."

You groan, and Pierce giggles at how childlike you're being. "But I'm starving and that place around there is disgusting," you wail, screwing your face up in disgust. "I'm pretty sure I saw _fried donkey's leg_ on one of the menus that came through our mailbox."

Pierce continues to laugh, as Fabray just looks fed up, throwing her hands in the air and then bringing them down roughly onto her lap. "Well, Santana, there's nothing else to do but wait and drink a shit load of wine."

"Cheers to that," you say loudly, holding up your glass and smiling widely at the other two ladies.

You all click glasses, bring them up to your lips and knock them back, downing the rest of your wine.

* * *

About two hours later, you have around five spring rolls, a large serving of yellow curry and rice, along with four whole glasses of wine, all in your system.

Pierce has been extremely flirty with you all night, and you try your hardest not to flirt back, but it's sort of difficult not to when you find her so damn cute.

It may just be the alcohol talking, and allowing you to admit this to yourself, but you find her hot. You'll admit it.

It's been two hours of eating, drinking and goofing around, sharing secrets and telling stories. You learn the hard way that Pierce strips when she's drunk; the hoodie and t shirt thrown in the corner of the room is enough evidence of that.

You're already drunk enough, but with Pierce sitting beside you in nothing but sweats and a tank top, you're finding it rather hard to concentrate on anything.

You get to your feet, wobbling a bit as you haven't gotten off the couch since you started feeling tipsy. "I'm getting some water to sober up a little," you announce. "Anyone want anything from the kitchen?"

"Do you have Dots?" Pierce wonders loudly, looking at you.

You shrug, shaking the wine glass above your mouth so you get the last few drops. "I wouldn't know, Britt, this is Quinn's place. Ask her."

Pierce nods a little before glancing over at Fabray. "Do you have Dots?"

You giggle at her cuteness as Fabray nods. "Third press from the right," she tells you.

You nod and walk right into the kitchen, getting a glass and filling it to the very top with water. You gulp it all down, trying to flush the alcohol out of your system. You fill it up again, and begin your search for the Dots, before Fabray strolls in.

"How's it going?" she asks you, flinging a press open and grabbing a box of Dots from the back. "Do you think she's drunk enough for me to question her?"

You nod. "Definitely."

"Right now?" Fabray seems puzzled by your lack of resistance.

"Yeah, seriously. Go for it. I'm kinda intrigued to hear her response, actually."

Fabray grins evilly and you watch her as she skips out of the kitchen, and back into the living room.

You press your ear to the kitchen door, trying to listen in on what's happening in the room next door.

"So," you hear Fabray start. "There's been something I want to ask you."

There's a hiccup from Pierce, and you hear her ripping her packet of Dots open wildly, like a kid opening their presents on Christmas morning. Cute. "Yeah?"

"What do you think about Santana?" You roll your eyes. Way to start off slowly, Fabray.

You hear a pause, and then another hiccup. "Um, she's pretty awesome. She's so badass at work and stuff. She's so cool and stuff. Sorry, I've been saying stuff a lot."

"I mean," Fabray says. "Do you find her attractive?"

There's another long pause. "Why? Did she put you up to this?"

You nearly burst through those doors, pounce on Fabray and strangle her before you hear her response. "No, absolutely not. I was just wondering, because, you know, I've noticed things. I'm almost as good as Santana at that facial expression stuff, so I pick up on things quickly."

"Well, I mean…" Pierce seems to be having trouble finding her words. There's a brief pause. "Promise not to tell her this?"

There is utter excitement in Fabray's voice. "Okay, I promise. Now tell me."

"If I could describe Santana in one word, it would probably be 'dreamy'."

"Dreamy?" You're just as taken aback as Fabray.

Nobody has ever called you _dreamy _before.

"Yeah." You can almost hear the shy smile in the taller blonde's voice. "I mean, she's really good looking, and she's sort of mysterious, she's nice to me and seems to want to do what's best for me, like when she let me go home early today because I wasn't feeling great. I think she genuinely felt bad for bringing me with you guys today, because I was kind of freaked out by it. Plus I find her skill fascinating and she's super hot when in action and when she's concentrating on a case. She's dreamy."

"I knew it!" Fabray shrieks.

"She looks so adorable in those little hipster glasses, as well."

Fabray giggles. "She'd kill you for saying that. She hates them." She lets out a long sigh, before continuing. "I _so _knew you have a thing for her. It's so obvious, Brittany. Really, it is."

"Well, I know she knows, so I don't really care about other people knowing, either."

You hear Fabray swallow her wine before replying. "Well, it's not every day that you get a huge crush on your new boss on your first day."

"It's not really a big crush," Pierce replies, and you can tell that she's shrugging. "I mean, it definitely is a small one, I guess, and there could be a possibility that feelings _could _eventually develop, but right now I'm just comfortable working with her."

"That's good. Because, I wouldn't want you to get hurt. I'm not saying you're not good enough to go out with San, but let's just say she's very picky."

"Wait," Pierce stops her. "Is she…?" The question is implied.

You hear Fabray chuckle a little bit. "Yeah, she is. But, she's just come out of a long term thing, only a few months ago. She was absolutely heartbroken about it. She still won't talk about it, _or _about the girl she was with."

"Really? What happened?"

Just as Fabray takes a deep breath to start her story, you figure it's a good time to burst back into the room, plastering a big, drunk smile back on your face. "Boy, was I thirsty," you say, sitting back down beside Pierce. You look up at her and she gives you a slightly baffled look.

"Brittany and I were just discussing work," Fabray tells you, trying to get you to play along.

You let out a fake laugh. "We're not talking about work tonight, come on. This is our night off. We can talk about work any other time we want, alright?"

"Santana's right," Fabray grins. "How about we watch a movie?"

Pierce claps excitedly and bounces a little in her seat as Fabray sets up the DVD player.

You just sit back in the couch, letting your body get absorbed by the giant cushion behind you. You're pretty used to people being attracted to you. You're never surprised when you hear that someone likes you, or wants to date you.

But there's something about the way Pierce described you to Fabray that made you feel so warm inside. She almost made you sound like a good person. Which you're _not_.

One half of you hopes she'll get over her little crush on you so you can work with her as normal, and the other half is enjoying the attention, especially since it's coming from her.

And as Fabray takes her seat and the starting credits roll on the screen, you feel Pierce gradually move towards you a little bit, until her thigh is resting against yours and your arms are brushing.

You sigh and look down, staring at your touching arms and legs, and as you're doing that you only have one thought in your mind.

You are truly screwed.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

When you wake up the next morning, the first thing you do is let out a loud groan at the unbelievable pain in your head. You feel like your temple was hit with a hammer multiple times, and you haven't even opened your eyes yet. You're a little scared to do so, because you know the pain of the headache will multiply once light hits your eyes fully.

You decide to get it over with, and you open them slowly, the sun beaming through the window and hitting your eyes, making you hiss and go to shield them with your left hand.

But you can't.

Because something is on top of your left hand, pinning it down to the couch.

You screw your eyes shut, terrified to look down and see that you went out and found a drunken hook up. You _think _you're fully clothed as you can feel clothes on your body, but then again you could still be drunk and imagining things.

You tend to do that when you're intoxicated.

You slowly tilt your head downwards, cringing and trying to put off opening your eyes. You then scold yourself for being a wimp and you just do it.

You're surprised at what you see.

The first thing you see is Pierce lying there, on top the entire left half of your body. You're both lying length ways across the couch, with Pierce on top of you, sleeping soundly. Her mouth is slightly open and her head is resting comfortably on your left shoulder. Her left arm and leg is thrown across your body whole body.

You're usually quite uncomfortable with cuddling with _anyone_, but in this moment you decide that you don't mind it that much.

Although, you wonder if it's cuddling you don't mind, or _Pierce_ cuddling you.

You're not sure.

You hate to admit it, but she looks so damn adorable you think you're going to throw up.

Thinking back to the night previous, you must have stayed at Fabray's. It's been a while since you've stayed over at someone else's place when it wasn't for sex, and you haven't had a meaningless hook up in years, so you aren't really used to not waking up in a familiar bed.

You let out a small laugh, mostly relieved that you didn't sleep with someone. You want to sit up and check the time, but you don't want to wake Pierce.

You think she looks like an angel, but you'll never tell her that.

Her cheeks are a little bit flushed, her lips are parted. She looks almost like a puppy sleeping.

You look up to see the state of the room around you. On the coffee table, there are bits of a broken glass, three completely empty bottles of wine lying on their sides, an empty packet of Cool Ranch Doritos, an empty box of Dots and about twenty empty fast food containers.

You look up and you see Fabray curled up in the arm chair in front of you, snoring away, hugging a cushion to her chest.

You do _not _want to be here when she wakes up and sees how trashed her precious apartment is. One of the first things that you learned about her is that she's the biggest neat freak you know.

You slowly begin to try and slip yourself out from underneath Pierce, grimacing when she whimpers in her sleep and grabs your arm, pulling it towards her.

You do want Pierce to wake up, but you feel like if you wake her, it would be too intimate, like when you would wake up your significant other in the morning. You can imagine how it would happen; you'd wake Pierce up by shaking her lightly, and she'd open her eyes, and you couldn't help but smile because she looks adorable, and she'd catch it, and she would think of it as something more, which it _isn't_. Too intimate.

You don't want that because you_ don't_ want Pierce.

You panic a little, craning your neck so you can glance over at Fabray. "Quinn," you whisper loudly, trying to get her attention.

Fabray stays sound asleep, murmuring contentedly.

"Quinn." There's nothing once again, so you desperately look around you, trying to find a resourceful way of waking her up. "Bingo," you mutter, looking down and finding a cushion on the floor beside the couch. You lean down slightly, keeping an eye on Pierce to make sure she's still sleeping and you pick up the pillow. You concentrate and try to get a good aim, biting your tongue as you do so. Then, you chuck the pillow straight at Fabray, hitting her square in the face.

Fabray's eyes snap open and she gasps, before lifting the cushion off her face, looking over at you and glaring.

You can't help but laugh, the vibrations in your chest lifting Pierce's body up and down in her sleep. You notice this and stop immediately.

Fabray flings the pillow at you, missing by a mile, which makes you want to laugh even more. She clutches her head, wincing in pain. "Oh _god_, my head," she moans. "Santana, go grab me an Advil."

"I can't," you hiss, gesturing animatedly at the girl on top of you. "I can't even move a muscle, Quinn."

Fabray ignores you, sits up straight with her mouth agape, and starts complaining loudly. "Oh my god, Santana, the room is a kip! It looks like a tornado swept through here during the night. Jesus." She stands up with a pained look on her face, and begins gathering glasses and food packages into her arms.

"Keep your voice down," you say, looking back down at Pierce. "Wake her up for me, will you?"

Fabray blinks at you, a blank expression her face. "Why?" she asks suspiciously.

You sigh, feeling slightly ashamed. "Well, she's lying on me, and she's also, you know, attracted to me. So if I wake her up it might be a bit… intimate?"

Fabray's mouth just drops open. "You're unbelievable," she snaps, shaking her head. "I should have known." She towers over you, glaring. This isn't the first time you've felt a little scared of her, and it certainly won't be the last. "Do _not _hurt her, Santana. Okay? Because she's such a sweet girl and the last thing she needs is for you to reject her tactlessly and break her heart."

You're stunned. "You'd swear _she _was your best friend instead of me," you smirk, trying to ease the tension between you two.

"Well, this girl doesn't seem to have the ability to hurt people. You, on the other hand, do. Very much so."

You shake your head slowly. "Ouch. I have feelings too, you know." Fabray scowls again, and you sigh. She's always such a delight during a hangover. "I don't want to lead her on, that's all. I'm doing this for her own good, Fabray."

She pauses in her actions, and stands there, studying your face carefully, looking for any sign of lying. "Okay," she huffs, stalking over to you. "But I still believe that selfishness is partly the reason why you're doing this."

"Just wake the woman up already."

Fabray tuts, bends down so she can look at Pierce, and starts to shake her gently. "Brittany," she whispers softly. "Britt, wake up."

Pierce stirs slightly, turning in her sleep and whacking you in the face with her elbow.

"Shit," you groan, holding onto your nose with your hand. "Get me some tissue, quick."

Fabray bursts out laughing suddenly and you've never_ really_ felt like hitting her until now. She turns and disappears off down the hall.

Unfortunately, Fabray's laughing was loud enough to wake Pierce up, and her eyes open slowly. You give her a weak smile and she smiles back groggily until she realises you're in pain, covering your bloody nose with your fist. "Are you alright?"

You decide to play it dumb; you don't want her to feel bad. If you've gotten the right impression of Pierce, you have a feeling she'd still be apologising for accidentally hitting you in her sleep ten years down the line, and you don't want that for either of you, so you lie. "Oh, yeah, definitely." You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly with your free hand. "I just always get nosebleeds in the mornings after I drink a lot. It's no biggie." You haven't had a proper nosebleed since that party you went to when you were seventeen, and you were so blackout drunk you just went down like a tree, face first into the pavement.

You feel awful for lying to her, but Pierce isn't trained enough now to know that you are.

Pierce frowns, looking sympathetic. "Are you sure you're alright? You might want to get that checked out."

You chuckle as Fabray enters with some tissue. "I'm fine, Britt."

Pierce starts to sit up, moving to the opposite end of the couch to you. She yawns and stretches, and you divert your gaze and desperately try to forget the fact that she's wearing no shirt.

You tilt your head backwards, holding the tissue firmly to your nose, and you glare at Fabray who's still hiding her chuckles behind her sleeve.

"Did we drink those whole three bottles last night?" you groan, flinging yourself back into a lying position.

Fabray nods ruefully. "Looks like it."

"What time is it?" Pierce groans, rubbing her temples with her two index fingers. "I feel like a whole football team just trampled all over my head and face."

You laugh a little to yourself. She's so cute.

Fabray picks up her phone and checks the time, and you really wish she didn't because she lets out a scream loud enough to wake the whole block. "It's nearly midday." She runs a hand through her hair, distressed.

You put your face in your hands, wincing. "I was supposed to go over to the station at ten and question that Leo kid. I suck."

Fabray sighs, before grabbing a cushion from the floor and shoving it in her face, groaning dramatically into it. "I have so much work to do that I definitely won't get done today at this point."

"It's alright," you say, sitting up straighter and trying to calm her. "Good thing your boss is here with you in the exact same situation, right?"

"If you want," she starts, looking at you. "I could go and question Leo."

You scoff. "No, it's fine. I'll just go home and change first, and then we can go together."

"No, Santana," Fabray says sternly, giving you a _don't fuck with me _look. "You look terrible. You know how you get after a night of drinking."

"Oh, I do." Cringing, you shrug reluctantly. "Okay. I'll give myself the day off."

It's been a while since you've rewarded yourself with the luxury of not going to work for a single day. Even on the weekends, it's hard to pry yourself from your office. You feel like you need this.

You turn to look over at Pierce, who's lying there, staring up at the ceiling, looking completely beat, her eyes half closed and her body limp. "Do you want to take the day off too, Brittany? We can grab coffee and just relax in my apartment."

Pierce looks over at you once she realises you're acknowledging her, and her eyes widen once what you said registers with her. "I-I couldn't, Santana," she splutters. "I've barely started my job and I'm already taking a day off before I've even had a full one."

Her panicking over small things is so endearing.

You'd never mention that to anyone, though.

"Relax," you giggle, glancing at Fabray, who's almost as amused as you are. "When you have a job as awesome as ours, a break is what's needed."

Fabray laughs loudly. "It's pretty ironic that you're saying that, Santana, seeing as how addicted to working you are." She looks over at Pierce. "This is Santana's first day off in, like, three years. That's including weekends and holidays."

Pierce's mouth drops open. "Really?"

"She even came in on Christmas last year. She was feeling a little lonely."

Your face heats up and you begin to feel embarrassed. "In my defence," you argue. "My whole family lives in Ohio and my girlfriend of six years had recently broken up with me. I had nobody."

"You had us girls," Fabray tells you, motioning to herself. "I would have definitely let you stay here for Christmas if you told me about your position. And I'm positive Lauren, Mercedes and Rachel would have done the same."

You notice something strange in Fabray's face when she says Rachel's name. You've noticed it a few times over the past couple of months, actually, but you don't give it much thought. "Moving very swiftly along," you say loudly, talking over Fabray. "Brittany, you're spending the day doing something completely non-work related. End of discussion."

"Okay," Pierce nods, looking submissive but also relieved. "So, coffee at your place then?"

You groan and stand up. "Good stuff." You look at Fabray, who's still sitting there. "Are you going to chill all day or are you going to do your job?"

She glares at you, and you laugh at her as you and Pierce grab your belongings and stroll out the door.

* * *

"Whoa," Pierce smiles, her mouth slightly open, as she looks around your apartment. "Your place is huge."

You shrug, trying to act modest, even though you know your flat is pretty damn awesome. "It'll do. I got a lot of inheritance money once I turned eighteen."

"From who?" she asks, half paying attention as she trails the tips of her fingers along the many painting on your living room walls.

Your mouth dries and you wonder how you're going to get out of answering this one. Thing is, you have a lot of secrets. Some of these secrets you don't even like to think about, let alone tell anyone about.

You must have taken too long to answer, because Pierce gives you a quizzical took. "Santana?"

Your throat closes over and you realise this story is for another day.

When you know Pierce better.

And, also when you have more alcohol in your system.

"It's not important," you mutter. You turn to face her, but she's still admiring your home. "Want to sit down? Make yourself comfy?" You know you sound awkward, but you're not great at small talk.

Pierce gives you a soft smile as if she knows this, and she sits down on your white couch, and you hear her admiring the texture as you walk into the kitchen.

"I love how you decorated your apartment," you hear from the next room. "Did you do it yourself?"

"No," you call back out to her, spooning some coffee granules into the pot. "My old friend, Kurt did it. He's an interior designer."

You never really talk to anyone about Kurt, except Fabray. You went to high school with him in Ohio. He was your only real, true friend, even though you were popular. You told him everything. He was the first person you came out to. He was also the person who knew everything about you; you went to him with all of your problems. There's not a single thing that boy doesn't know about you.

He lives in New York now, but when he came to visit you when you set your company up a few years ago, he also did the job of designing the interior of your apartment.

You're glad he was there; you don't know the first thing about designing, and Kurt is pretty amazing at it.

He was mortified to find out you didn't know the difference between teal and turquoise, so you just knew the future interior of your home was in the right hands.

As you stand there day dreaming, you realise that the coffee is probably ready, so you pour two cups of it. "Do you take milk or sugar or anything, Brittany?" you yell into her.

"Four spoons of sugar, please."

You raise your eyebrows as a small laugh escapes your lips, and you wonder how someone could put that much sugar in coffee as you kick the kitchen door open with your foot, carrying the two mugs inside.

"This coffee smells so good," Pierce moans, taking a whiff as you hand her the mug and sit beside her.

You chuckle, stirring your cup with your spoon. "And if you get any of it on this couch, I'll murder you."

"Noted," she chuckles.

You sip your drink, before making a small noise of confusion. "How can you drink coffee with that much sugar in it? It must be disgustingly sweet."

"Well, yeah, like myself," Pierce winks, causing you to laugh loudly.

She is certainly a charmer.

"Yeah, but isn't the whole point of coffee that it's bitter?"

"Well, I like when the two tastes merge." She takes a gulp, before gasping a bit. "Too hot. This is really good, though."

You smile. "My coffee making skills are one of my many talents."

The sudden eye contact you're making with her is a little too strong for you to be comfortable with at the moment, so you look over to the doors of your balcony. The weather is pretty good today; clear, blue skies with big, white, puffy clouds popping up here and there.

You turn your gaze over to her. "Want to go and stand on the balcony?"

Pierce smiles and stands up, both of her hands wrapped around her mug. "Sure."

You both walk over to the sliding doors and you tug on the handle of one of them, it jolting open.

You slowly make your way to the edge of your roomy balcony, which has a table in the corner. The edge of the balcony has a barrier made out of glass and marble.

You look up to see the sun shining down directly on you, heating up your balcony floor.

When you first moved into this apartment, it was January, and around that time you wouldn't be spending much time out on the balcony, so you never really got around to buying much furniture for it.

"It's such a beautiful day," Pierce says, starling you a little bit.

"It is," you agree, taking a big gulp of your coffee.

You feel your headache leaving.

But you're pretty sure the only reason for that is the company you're in.

Pierce suddenly turns her whole body towards you, grinning, mischief written all over her facial features. "We should go hiking."

You stare at her incredulously. "Brittany, we're not really in the health to do that at the moment," you say, laughing a little bit. "Plus, there's nowhere around here to even go hiking."

"No," she replies, shaking her head stubbornly, like a child. "There is this collection of hills near where my old house was. I always used go out there for walks and stuff when I lived there."

You're about to protest, but she takes your hand and squeezes it, pouting slightly.

You groan. You can't resist that pout already. "Is it far?"

Pierce shakes her head quickly, looking up at you through her eyelashes.

You close your eyes a little bit and smile, defeated.

You're really going to hate yourself for this later.

"Fine," you huff, and you try to ignore the slight butterflies in your stomach as Pierce squeals in happiness, squeezing your hand even harder and smiling widely.

* * *

It's four in the afternoon by the time you and Pierce get everything together and, after a pretty long drive, arrive at the hills that she was talking about it.

She was right about them being pretty.

The hills basically stand one after the other, each one taller than the last. The sun peaks up in the light blue sky from behind the tallest hill, shining directly into your eyes.

The grass is freshly cut and green, and all the spring flowers are up, dancing slightly in the light wind.

Tall trees are planted along the outskirts of the hills; the leaves are already bloomed fully for the summer.

It really is a truly wonderful sight.

You're not used to seeing this much beauty. All your adult life you've lived in the city, full of noise and air pollution. Your apartment is in the centre of the town too, so you're used to falling asleep to the sound of cars roaring past your window.

You didn't grow up in a big town, but Lima, Ohio was a complete dump, and there was nothing of beauty to be seen there.

So, you're a little awe struck when you're surrounded by so many bright colours, the only sound around you being the light rustle of leaves on the trees blowing in the wind and the odd bird chirping.

So, as you stand there, with your lips quirked up in a small smile, and your eyes wide open, taking it all in, you barely register the small tug on the end of your t shirt.

You look up to see Pierce's amused, cat-like eyes staring back at you. "Are you just going to stand there all day, or are you up for a little exercise?"

"And this is coming from the girl who was complaining of a massive hangover earlier," you tease.

Pierce laughs, it sounding utterly melodic.

You didn't realise it before, because you've never seen her in this light, but the sun beaming on her skin makes the tiny little freckles, dusted across her cheeks and bridge of her nose, entirely visible.

She looks so young at this moment; almost like she's a teenager.

You laugh fondly, and begin to follow her in your trek up the first hill. "I've got to say," you start, still looking at the scenery around you. "I certainly wasn't expecting anything like this."

"I know," Pierce replies, still taking the lead on the excursion. "It's so peaceful up here, away from the city. It's almost like being in the country side, except not quite. Here, we're no more than a mile away from a shopping mall, but it feels like we're in the middle of nowhere, almost."

You nod a little in agreement. That's exactly the same feeling you got. "So, do you come here on your own for walks or do you take people with you?"

Pierce looks like she thinks for a moment, her footing slowing down slightly, falling in step with you. "Actually, it's just been me. I've never taken anybody up here with me before."

"Oh," you say, quirking an eyebrow. "I'm honoured."

You continue your journey to the last hill, and you also continue to talk to Pierce, about your childhood, which you never like getting into, and also your past jobs and girlfriends.

You feel so comfortable in her presence.

"Who was that past girlfriend of yours that Quinn was bringing up earlier?" Pierce asks suddenly, starting you a little bit and pulling you out of your happy spell. "I'm sorry if it's too personal, I know we don't know each other long and Quinn said that you don't like to talk ab-"

"Britt, it's fine," you sigh. You figure it can't hurt just to tell her the basics of it. "It's just, I was in a relationship for six years with this woman and, like, that's a really long time. I knew towards the end things were a little strained with us, but it wasn't until I came home from work one evening and found her in our bed with another woman that I knew we were over." That wasn't so bad. You let out a long breath.

Pierce gasps, still walking along side you. Since your story began, you both started walking a lot slower. "That's awful. What did you do?"

"I just started throwing her crap into a suitcase, and she came out and started apologising, but I wanted to hear none of it."

"Typical you," Pierce cuts in.

You giggle. "Shut up. Anyway, then she turned it on me, and said she wouldn't have cheated if I wasn't so committed to my job. So, she took her stuff, and that was the end of that. I haven't heard from her in four months. Not a single text, phone call, email, voicemail, nothing."

"You deserve better," she tells you, putting a reassuring hand on your forearm. "What was this girl's name?"

You give her a thin lipped smile, thinking there's no harm in just telling her. You've recited the whole story, anyway. "Holly," you eventually breathe out. You study Pierce for a second. "She looked a bit like you, actually. Well, she was tall and blonde, but yeah. But you don't remind me of her at all, personality wise." You realise you're rambling and you shut up before you can go on longer.

Pierce just giggles though. "Good to know." She looks ahead, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the setting sun. "We're at the bottom of the highest hill."

You follow her gaze and realise she's right. Time flies in good company. "Yeah. And I'm hardly out of breath, good job, Santana."

Pierce laughs loudly, the sound disturbingly amazing to your ears. She pauses briefly, giving you a sly smirk as her eyes dart to the top of the hill, and then back to you. "Race you!" she yells, and all too quickly she's halfway up the hill, nearing the top.

You roar with laughter as you start to chase her up the very tall hill, your arms outstretched in front of you. You feel your chest begin to tighten, the lack of air in your lungs giving you a strong burning sensation, but you don't stop.

You hear her giggles as she reaches the top before you, collapsing clumsily on the grass, her legs spread and her eyes staring lazily at the sky.

She looks like she is making a snow angel, without the snow.

"That's no fair," you gasp, leaning down and putting your hands on your knees, taking some deep breaths. "You started before me. Plus, you have longer legs."

Pierce smiles goofily at you. "I have no control over that last one."

"I suppose not," you chuckle, taking a seat beside her on the grass. You still feel out of breath, your throat and lungs stinging whenever you tried to breathe in deep, but you try not to focus on it too much.

You both sit there in silence, as you watch the sun slowly lower itself in the sky, ready for the moon to take its place for the night.

"I'm having a lot of fun with you today, Santana." Pierce's voice is quiet, but strong.

Like she wants you to hear her, but not quite.

You say nothing but reach over and squeeze her hand.

She's such a great friend.

"Are you upset that I made you talk about your ex girlfriend?" she asks you, out of the blue.

You shrug, a little caught off guard by the question. "No, not really." It's not a lie, but it didn't exactly make you feel good to talk about it.

"I can tell that you didn't like it."

You shrug again, feeling the air around you suddenly get a lot colder.

You both stay sitting there for a moment, tension floating all around you.

Suddenly, Pierce jumps to her feet, still keeping a firm grip on your hand. "Do you want to see something beautiful?" She pulls you up to stand with her as she begins to lead you down the hill, without waiting for an answer, and starts to turn to your left. "This place always cheers me up."

"Where are you taking me?" you quiz, looking around you as you realise it's a lot darker than it was an hour ago.

"I'll tell you when we get to the forest." Pierce keeps walking, her hand in yours.

You feel like her hand belongs with yours, like your hands are two jigsaw pieces and they fit together perfectly.

That thought is gone from your head before you can think about it further.

You falter. "To the where?"

For someone who helps the police, you're a little bit of a wimp, in all honesty.

"There's a little tributary of a river that runs through here. It ends in the most amazing waterfall ever. You'll see."

You shake your head, laughing to yourself, and also to calm your nerves, as Pierce leads you into a field, both of you bending down slightly to get through the wooden gateway.

You follow her through the field, over to the other side of it, where there's a small opening into some woods.

The longer grass and crops in the field swish against your legs as you walk through it, hitting against your legs and staining your pants.

You can't bring yourself to care.

The scenery was beautiful earlier, but in the dark, it's pretty scary.

You look into the horizon, and manage to make out some meadows. The stars in the sky are beaming down on your heads; it got dark pretty fast.

The ground beneath you gets less grassy until you get to the end of the field. It's just mud underneath you, now.

You hear the crickets sing and frogs croak quietly as you hesitate outside of the entrance to the woods, a little reluctant to follow Pierce.

"Brittany?" you ask, your voice barely audible.

She's still making her way into the woods, weaving her way through the trees and branches. She keeps walking, and doesn't look back to you. "We're nearly there," she whispers.

You decide to trust her, and you let her guide you through the logs and trees, meandering through the forest.

Branches and leaves crunch beneath your shoes, before you hear a different sound under your feet and you look down, realising that you're now walking on stone.

Pierce walks behind you, pushing you a little bit. "Come on. It'll be worth it."

You take a few steps forward, before you see some light to your right out of the corner of your eye, and you turn your head to look.

And you're glad you did.

You see the river in front of you, flowing to some yellow beams in the distance, and the loud sound of falling water, and you follow, curious and full of wonder.

You hear Pierce's steady breathing behind you as the light becomes clearer, and in front of you, you see a large waterfall, raining down into the river. It's falling from the top of a very large boulder, and behind the top of the waterfall, there's about twenty little lanterns, glowing bright yellow light, making it look like you're in a five star resort.

The moon shines brightly off the river, making it glow even more than it already does, letting you see your reflection clearly.

You just stand there, staring. You had no idea that such a simple thing like a waterfall could be so captivating.

"It's always so pretty here." Pierce's voice breaks the silence.

You turn your head around to glance at her. "I can imagine. Where did all the lanterns come from?"

"Well, one night, after my walk up the hills," Pierce started, taking a seat on the ground beside the river. "I decided to venture in here to see where I'd find myself. I saw this here, and it reminded me of this waterfall in a hotel I stayed in when I was on vacation as a kid. The waterfall there had lights behind it, so one day I found some lanterns and brought them here. Nobody's touched them yet. Either people think they're perfect right where they are, or I'm the only one who knows about this place."

You sit down beside her, still staring at the waterfall. You don't say anything back to her.

You just think that there's a lot to this girl that you don't know, and you just saw some more of her today.

After a while of just sitting there, Pierce smiles and gently touches your side. "Come on, it's late. We best get going."

You get to your feet, your legs feeling a bit like jelly after walking for so long that day.

On the walk through the forest back to Pierce's car, you just think.

As much as you hate to admit it, Fabray was right about her. You _have _started to like her, and you really would consider her as a friend at this point.

She's sweet and charming, and you've never met anyone like her before. You can tell she's a lovely girl to her very core. She's bright, and never fails to make you smile.

She confuses the hell out of you, but you can't seem to find it in you to care.

You've actually never grown so fond of someone so quickly before. Usually it takes you months, almost years to warm up to someone completely.

It's scaring you quite a bit, but it's a good type of scary.

She's so unpredictable in what she's going to say. Her whole persona could change just like that. You would usually find someone with a hot and cold personality off putting, but not with the way Pierce is.

In Pierce, you find it refreshing and challenging.

You like challenges, and you feel like at the moment, Pierce is your biggest one.

If you had to describe how you feel about her, it would only take up ten words.

She's an open book that you can't seem to read.


End file.
